I wish I could remember the type of poem this was...
As cold as...

Autumn
The breath of crisp cold air...

I know this isn't quite a sad poem, but it is to...
You walk alone down the hallway...

In that place -
on an unfolded futon...

Born to waste away a life time,
Destined to always fall again...

Sleep.
Wake...

Do not ask me to live.
You alone...

I am,
the voice for that sorrow...

Dearest little bottle flowing with colorful...
Why did your enticing freedom tempt my broken...

I wanted to die in fire,
to fade into the setting sun...

Play, stop, rewind then pause
Shouldn't life chance it's flow...

You gripped me hard by my arm,
but then, eased me deeper by your charm...