What has turned to ashes was once burning,
In a campfire or crematorium,
It's all the same in the end.
What is lost was once in love,
Sharing secrets no one knows,
Some should have been taken to the grave.
I should have known
Never to let our lips touch,
Never to share those tightly held lies.
All disguised by the feelings
Never truly revealing the truth inside.
We were never really saying much at all.
What has turned to smoke was once burning
In a lit cigarette or candle flame.
It still aches to say your name.
What is hurt was once love,
Turned sour by realizations,
That sometimes things just burn away.
I should have never stayed.