Your picture sits there
In the gold-rimmed frame
Staring right at me
And your eyes
That are pressed up against
The thin glass sheet
Are trapped
Trapped in a past
Trapped in a memory
Trapped in a world
And trapped in a life
That was set free
Before all that was left of you
Was your picture
In the gold-rimmed frame
Glaring right at me
Are your eyes
That want out from behind
The thin glass sheet
But they're stuck
Stuck in a heart
Stuck in a love
Stuck in a bond
And stuck to me
But I let you go
When you wanted to achieve your dream
But look what that did
All that's left of you now
Is your picture
In the gold-rimmed frame
And I wish
With every drop of my blood
With every tear in my eye
And with every ounce of my love
That your arms were still around me
And not
Ten feet under the ground . . .
