‘Nothing worse than living in
A loveless place’; the words of
you,
How they laugh at me now.
Countless conversations,
With no promises made;
How conveniently beautiful,
The words of you.
I’d rather be a wild fowl
Than a sparrow of gold;
Ah, the words of you;
How they’ve spoilt me rotten.
Such pride ignited by love,
So much vanity in vain,
Good lord, these words from you,
Of my beauty and your pain.
‘Almost possessive about you,
Like the lyrics of my favourite
song.
Tenderness needs protection’, dazzling
lies;
The words of you.
Now I’m sitting in a corner, by that
Lakeside nobody’s ever trodden,
Lamenting a future loss, hearing
the
Last few words from you.
