Old lavender

It’s not the same anymore
why that I do not know
but I know it’s not me

Patience might be a virtue
but it’s no rubber band
you could stretch infinitely

then I meet you again
and think it could be like it was before
but you are just like blind windows
there’s no introducing door
and it tears me apart
cos it’s still in the air
the scent of old lavender
the smell of your hair

a face like a granite statue
no signs of remorse
I can’t hardly look at you
your courtesy makes it even worse

what I’ve missed seems long gone

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