Come along and we will speak,
speak words that flatter, so fluently.
And I take it all in as I am prone to do,
an effect of falling so easily for you.

And that’s it, it begins,
from awkward stares to holding hands.
From you barely knowing who I am,
to me getting butterflies again.

But butterflies can lose their wings,
among the feelings and other things.
And hands that weren’t meant to be held,
come undone like the things I have felt.

From holding hands, to breaking hearts,
good ole time has played its part.
Somehow i’ve known right from the start,
that who we were is not who we are.

And no, I know that I can’t go back,
I regret nothing, but the things we lacked.
I dont even regret the feelings i felt,
but the hands that I thought knew my hands so well.