So you cry? Or do you choose to live the lies? Somewhere there are those who die. Somewhere there are those who live, but still won't. Where was it that you left her? Was it you who swept her, off her feet to places unknown? Was it you who forgot? Or, was it she who forgot? Where were you when the time came to live the promises? Was it you who broke them, or was it time who was the blamed mistress? Was it circumstance that came in the way, or was it weakness; perhaps fear the evil seamstress? Why was she not the one, while ''she'' was? Why were you not the one, when there was no one else? Why was loneliness so astute when patience was perched at a precipice? Why were answers sought, for questions already answered? Why did time deem it necessary to rewind vacant musings that held no good with in them? With in the why's lay another fold to the mysteries.