You could be happy.

You could be happy,
While the sky is blue,
and the sea whispers,
of things untrue.

But you're so far now,
And I'm left with your clothes,
and they smell so sweet,
but you don't know.

You could be happy,
Painting your gold heart grey,
and pretending that
the tears are rain.

But the paint soon cracks,
Like your heart split and broke,
I'm writing for you,
but you don't know.

You could be happy,
while I tear out my heart,
you tear your work down
and then restart.

But you're painting dreams,
and they come to you slow,
I dream about you,
but you don't know.

You could be happy,
But I'll always be here,
remembering us,
holding us dear.

But there's no life now,
with our skin like snow,
no more memories,
death all we know.