You and I
We suffer for art
But my heart
It aches
For your sake
It withers, engulfed in agony
Blistered, burned, bound
To the words you surround
Of lies and battered
Tattered copies of unread pages
Ages,
Ago I would have bled less
Said less
But you have shattered to smithereens
My love, my heart and each peice now sharp
Has a voice that stings
And rings in the music you recall
Of all the songs
You sang for art, my heart
Remembers only one
That you never sang