A Mess

I could take this in my heart,
Make it mine,
Not yours,
This song is love,
This song you sing,
Can I sing it now?
Give you peace from its wonderful tune,
You sleep now,
I’ll sing my song,
Once yours.
Sorry if I stole,
Take it as a compliment for what you have achieved,
I am afraid I am taking,
What you are giving,
Or gave,
Why else did you give it?
You sing it loud,
I sing it proud,
As though it were mine.
As you sleep your very own way,
You sleep with your old ways,
You take the things you have given with you,
Please let me have this song,
So that you haven’t really gone,
You’re asleep.
I will be around soon I promise,
To see and talk to you,
And sing you your song,
My song,
Any song that means you haven’t gone,
I keep writing to stop it from being the end,
Finally what I am writing really means something,
My eyes may finally drop a tear of recognition,
That your song will not be sung by you anymore,
I have talked and writ of it,
As though on paper was the only place it existed,
But you are gone,
And now we will carry it on,
In life,
Not on paper.