Paper Leaves

I found a note tucked in the drawer
Words that I don't read anymore
The ink is faded but it still stings
It still stings

Paper leaves crumble in my hand
Tracing lines I don't understand
Was it love
Was it a plan
Or just a house built on sand

The rain taps soft against the glass
A song that echoes from the past
I hear your voice in every draft
Every draft

And it twists
And it turns
But it burns

Paper leaves crumble in my hand
Tracing lines I don't understand
Was it love
Was it a plan
Or just a house built on sand

Windows open
Cold creeps in
A draft of words
A scattered wind
We tried to build
We tried to mend
But some stories don't begin