The Last Poem I Will Write For You

You drew a silhouette of a man
Painted it in black and white
Shadows covering his tears
And the midnight silence is the only sound you hear

Broken promises and shattered dreams
Asking yourself “What might have been?”

His kisses are warm but he is dead
Your canvass is filled with blood and regrets

The music stopped, the melody’s gone
The painter’s hands were tired
Will you hold mine just for tonight?
It was the coldest rain in June

I wish I was still alive
So I can let you bury me in silk
Throw the purple tulips in my grave
But don’t cry for I knew they were all lies.