I’m sitting at the kitchen table,
staring through the windowpane.
Remembering a time that never was,
remembering a life that never came.

Where do I begin to tell you
how can I start to say?
What words can I begin with,
that explains why I feel this way.

I’ve tried to tell you once before,
one day that we were walking.
but the words I needed failed me,
and we just ended up talking

I tried to tell that you I loved you,
and all I could do was tell a lie,
I wanted to tell you of my heart,
and all I did was make you cry.

And so I sit here thinking,
of a life that never came.
Wondering if I can ever tell you,
while my world is still the same.