The Flavor of Life
When you thank me,It somehow seems painfulAnd that enduring magic that comes after saying goodbyeLeaves a faint taste of the bittersweet.This must be the flavour of life.
The space where we are neither friends nor loversMakes me feel like an unripe fruit dreaming to be harvested.
The way we are is aggravating, baby,As we never seem to make any progress.
This is why thanking meSeems to somewhat hurtAnd yet the magic that comes after we say goodbyeLeaves traces of the bittersweet.That is the flavour of life.
With only sugar-coated words and phrases,Talking seems to have lost its taste.I just don’t find such things intriguing.
Just because everything is falling apart,Doesn’t make our lives any more dispensable.
Asking me “What’s the matter?” all of a suddenCan only elicit the response, “Nothing, nothing at all.”Yet, when the smile fades away after we have parted,I don’t seem myself.
Wanting to believe and hoping for hopeSeems to somehow amplify the pain.“I really like you” is better than “I love you”,That’s more like you, isn’t it?Such is the flavour of life.
Suddenly remembering the smell of the person you had almost put behindInvites a joy that is more innocent than the white of fresh snow.
Devotion means more than diamonds.I want a warm future in my handsAnd in the limited time that is my life, I hope to share it with you.
Still, when you thank me,It seems somewhat painfulAnd the magic that comes after we say goodbyeLeaves traces of the bittersweet.This is the flavour of life.