pov

she leaves his life never to return

and so he kindles it like a burn

like an ember that hides a raging fire

or a cold yet consuming funeral pyre

aye, his memory of them belongs to the past

but see how sweet-talk can make it last

(see how long it can continue to be

when there’s only you left, of you and me)

and so he copes, with shards of yesterday

bent and bowed, from tears that weigh

and what of her, must you curiously ask

she takes to cigarettes, a swig of the flask

she takes to men, one each black night

and in blazing darkness, finds her light

as she realizes, with a toss of her hair

in the mirror she’s alone; he never was there

aye habits picked up, can easily be dropped

and nostalgia is evil, it’s meant to be stopped

so she remembers to forget, to care about him

till the remembering gets hazy; hey now it’s dim

till all that she recalls is there was a man

a fast fickle fellow, oh how quick he ran!

so she smiles and snuggles with her point of view

and believes forever – only her love was true.

ram cobain