Verse 1 Hello, long lost love It’s me again, Writing letters to my hearts ghost The one that got away I hold them in silence, Hide them where the old echoes sleep. Never to be sent But why do I still write so deep? Maybe somewhere in the darkness There’s a foolish little spark, Thinking words can bend a memory, Paint new windows floral them in the dark. The way we ended God, what strange theater that was. I’ve shelved it under Keystone Cop comedy. I wonder what shelf it rests on with you Maybe yours says horror. Mine just laughs instead. Sometimes that’s the only blanket For sad stories left for dead. Verse 2 You mocked me when I told you Love isn’t born complete. It gathers like slow seasons, Or fades in quiet retreat. I still can’t understand Why that seemed absurd to you. For everything alive keeps growing Even love… until it doesn’t too. You were my “it” girl. My body knew before my mind. Yes, I saw the storm clouds gathering, The Beetlejuice behind your eyes. I named them fear, Or jealousy, Or wounds that love could heal. Maybe I mistook the fracture For something deep love could seal. Chorus Shouldn’t real love linger? Shouldn’t echoes fill the room? Why do we expect forever To disappear so soon? Maybe hearts remember longer Than logic thinks they should. Maybe love was never broken— Just trapped where it once stood. Verse 3 I’ve loved before. Or so I say. But mostly I knew wanting. Only after leaving Did I learn How much my marriage meant. Emotions and I Have never spoken Quite the same language. I’m built from questions, Not instincts. Thought before thunder. Reason before rain. Following feelings Has usually handed me A map to disaster A cautionary tale Yet somehow… Here you still are. Bridge Now there’s someone new Trying to find a home Inside a house You accidentally built. And I feel guilty Because I don’t hear The same orchestra. She’s beautiful… But with you It was a violin That could split the soul. With her… Sometimes it feels Like learning to love A flute. Neither instrument is wrong. But they are not The same song. Final Chorus You once asked Why a man like me Never married again. You asked it Like the answer Must be hidden damage. Then one night You called making love to me Amazing… Almost frightening. And you wondered again How could someone like this Still be alone? Maybe that’s always been The wrong question. Maybe some people Love once With everything they have. And spend the rest of their lives Trying to understand Why everything Wasn’t enough. Outro So I’ll write another letter That never leaves my hands. Not because I expect you back. But because somewhere Between reason and memory, Between comedy and tragedy, There’s still a man Who believes Love grows. And because it grows… Sometimes, The Weeds of Remembrance Refuses to die.
