So...

The artwork of our life
Has turned dark in a hurry...
Maybe when you felt as a wife,
Looking back, the past's blurry.

We flew over the borders,
Your head in my shoulder...
So much like our formers,
Maybe a lit bit older.

There's no point to precise,
Or to point fingers for blame...
Maybe I've just realized,
That without you, nothing will ever be the same.

Now the sketches don't even come close,
To our details, our bright colors.
Not one of our drawings compares to those...
When we could care less about others.

Our song is not yet complete,
Our chorus is merely a beat.
The lyrics are strong not discreet,
Won't you please come over and have a seat?

Let's please investigate where we went wrong...
The time, the will...
Was it our song?

All has lost it's color...
The sky, the ocean, my mother.
Until today, I wonder where and how you are...
Will it ever heal this scar?