My paper heart was beating, when
first you passed me bye.
You filled my thoughts, consumed my
dreams, to know you, I must try.
With shaking hand I wrote upon the
paper of my heart.
A sonnet of my love so true, then gave
to you my heart.
The pain of life does often break the tie's
that bind so true.
I could not know that you're poor heart
was fragile paper too.
The heat we made, the love we gave, just
burned as flames will do.
No phoenix rose up from the ash, with bitter
winds it blew.
Now just whispers on the breeze, those three
words are through.