where the writers are
Insipid

So this is how it works?
The flames burn out,
The coals cool,
And the embers all but die?

So this is how it feels?
When the pressure releases
I can breath again,
But all I do is sigh.

Is my love repressed,
Buried deep within?
Or just below the surface,
Hiding beneath my skin? 

Is my love impressed? 
I've done all that she asked.
I hid away a broken heart
And left behind the past. 

But though I've lost and found myself,
And should be doing fine,
I still lie up at night while dreaming 
Of those days when you were mine.