Love encased in a picture frame.
But, will it reveal all the pain.
The pain from the unknown,
The pain of what use to be there but, now is gone.
Yes; gone, but never forgotten.
Yet still rotten to its core.
Because, the more I hear those three words, the less they are really heard.
In through one ear and out the other,
Flowing like the river of lies we told once another.
Filling each other up with BS about love and romance that's pretend.
Out of fear of being alone when your final day comes to a end.
So we dance, around and around in this never ending cycle of pain.
To end back up in front of the love we had.
Encased in a picture frame.