But in me are cities built on the graves of dead butterflies,And every day feels like a funeral,For the things that cannot be.

I walk in the rain and cry with it. I rise with the sun and set with it. I bloom with the rose and fall with it.

This empty shell holds nothing but the echoes of what was.

I still belonged to you long after you belonged to someone else.

I have always been a fire, and everyone I loved walked away as ashes, until I met a phoenix who was born to love flames.

If only I could touch what's broken inside me and tell it, I’m sorry.

Even in the darkest of years, you remained the light of my life.

I am the broken sky, you are my rain.

The things you let go will someday teach you how to fly.