An Old Love Song

Don't let me become a memory
A faded photograph
A broken Valentine's gift
Don't allow yourself to become a sad poem
An old love song
A tear-stained shirt

Rest your head on my heart
Trace your fingers over my lips
Feel my body heat, it's yours now

Through the fog I can see your eyes
Over the wind I hear your voice
Whisper my name
Just one more time

I thought I was out
No longer in the game
But how can I quit
When I came so close to winning

I sometimes wish I stilled played the guitar
Or still spoke French
But mostly
I wish I could ask for you

How does the butcher feel
Looking at his slaughter
Does he see tears?

I'm still breaking
And I'm still yours
You just have to ask

Don't let me become a memory
Don't allow yourself to become a sad poem
An old love song