Unreal

The term of all good things come to an end,
Does not exist in our believes.
Certainly the term is true,
But the memory that is left is what we treasure.

The memory of seeing your face in my eyes,
Seeing you in front of me.
Remembering the good times,
Gives me pain in the heart.

Not the physical and normal pain,
But the pain of desiring you,
Wanting you and seeing you.

Although you have passed away,
And that time has come to an end.
I don’t believe in all good things come to an end.

Because I have my memories.

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