Love Drawn Cold

She is the master and I am her serving venting platter 

Consigned to conform to predetermined feigned permutations

Whatever it is that I say is put down in damning splatters 

Destined as used fodder with proclaimed rearrangements

This is the prelude to everything that will or won't ensue

Recompense is immensely given up for darkened ashes

Time is now turning the wheels of fate for our sad adieu

Passion has come and passed all we do now is clash

I am the canvas and you are the brush that paints our picture

A reconciliation seems to be blowing and flashing past 

I was always under the impression we would be a permanent fixture

What was once as strong as time looks doomed to  

She is right as I don't understand how our love has grown this cold