A broken hearted rant.

It's four in the morning,
As of why, I'm not sure
But here I sit, mourning.
Mourning what we were.

These tears in my eyes,
Turning shapes into blurs,
The sound of my sighs,
Lonely lips longing for her's

Heavy is my heart as, I wonder,
Is it over, is this never again?
The saddest words I'd ever mutter
"what might have been"

I'm so tired of this,
so very weary,
as I reminisce,
about you and me.

Broken heart, forgotten dreams,
Bittersweet nostalgia,
Painful cries and silent screams,
The end of this era.