It’s been a difficult year,
You wrote me a song and
told me it’s over.
It’s been a treacherous
year,
Every conversation’s been
feeling like a hostile takeover.
Having dinner on the
frontlines,
Sharing a drink across enemy
lines;
Across the dinner table I fire a
shot
The bullet ricochets, your
sigh an afterthought.
An unforgiving year,
‘cause you won’t tell me what’s wrong;
What to forgive and where
to start.
Won’t sing me a melody,
won’t write me a song,
That doesn’t end with your
pen through my heart.
The days bleed together,
‘cause you won’t answer my calls,
Won’t return fire, but
this ceasefire, cuts worse than our fiercest wars.
They tell me to sing, but
I can’t hold a tune without your name on it;
Can’t envision a future,
and the past is still bleeding where we split.
It’s been a terrifying
year, ‘cause I’m still jumping at the shadows,
Of your disappointment, the
discontent that you compose.
An inconceivable year,
‘cause God, this isn’t how we were meant to end;
In bitterness and outrage,
to the warfront of silence condemned.
But maybe you’ll say
something, if I sing loud enough;
Maybe you’ll hold up a
shield if I fire another shot.
So I’ll smile and I’ll
croon and I’ll twirl, till I’ve come undone
Brought you
down or choked on the melody you forgot. 
