Oh! How many times have I cried for you?
How many songs have I written?
Songs unlike a bird’s.
No, mine were deep and melodious,
Pounding out the rhythm of my heart,
Interjected with quiet tears
That blubber down the sewer drains
And join a rat’s funeral procession.

Oh! How many times have I lied for you?
How many notes have I penned?
Notes—not to say you are ill—
No, they were deep and passionate,
Snapping even the most apprehensive reader in two,
Bought with quick oaths
That crinkle in a stoked fireplace
Along with the Bible you say has no more meaning.

Oh! How many times have I died for you?
How many of your poison have I drunk?
Poisons not of love,
Yet, they were alluring and whispered of our stories,
Playing a Magician’s trick on my eyes,
Now lost in your designer Hell
That I keep returning to as a fool
Wanting of the chance to hold your warmth close again