Better

Better comes so slowly,

almost you forget

you’ll have no regrets.

You’d been looking

at the pages,

you could read them,

but not yourself,

not yourself now, not yourself now.

Letters written slowly

so you don’t forget

the last thing you confessed.

You’d been looking

in the mirror,

you could see her

but not yourself,

not yourself now, not yourself now.

Days were faring well,

the things you could not tell.

Dazed with atmosphere,

you thought you’d find her here,

but not yourself now,

not yourself now..