She doesn’t come to visit anymore
I guess the death and gore scared her away
or else she thought my verse a fucking bore
some hearts preclude my death and things I say.
I don’t expect their preference in the heart;
I find it hard to love; my heart is blue.
I need a lover now who knows the part
of me that’s sick, of me I thought she knew.
I do not judge; I only know myself
I will not hold a person to my thought
and love’s a feeling, not an empty shelf
but shelves will hold what’s sold or what is bought.
I bought my love to share, and shared it all
but then I sold my love within a fall.

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