This is crap, I just need to write again, for me.

You are not my person, not my lover or my friend,
You are not my story, you are one unhappy End,
No fairy tale adventures, no romance, no fun,
The ink never dried before your love began to run,

I burn thee in the fire, scattered pages dancing everywhere,
Embers, smoke and soot filling the twilight air,

Spinning, spiraling upward, into the dark abyss,
Burning flecks of your soul, that I will never miss,

The heavy weight of pages, that simply wouldn't turn,
Now filled with the air and space, that they need to burn,

You were never mine, I never gave myself to you,
What is left of us, will dissolve upon the morning dew.