you knock at my door with the darkness in tow,
and I breathe in that scent that I knew long ago
So we talk of old times
(how I've grown since you fled!)
and you searched for my pain,
quite chagrined I'm not dead
Here we are yet again,
standing close, you and I,
unable to breathe and unable to cry
And I knew you'd return here
to claim what you'd lost
for the stars that have fled cannot stay long uncrossed
But I beg you be gentler than you were back then
for I'd rather fall dead
than be broken again
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