A lover's knife in your hand
Blood streaming down my chest
Perfectly innocent, they say you are
And I leave under you own command,
With so many questions left a hung
And so much pain within, I cannot abide
With much more than this that you left me with
I blame you not for which you have stung,
But for the loss of anything that might have been
Had you tried. I might have been delighted,
Or at least less saddened,
If you had tried to
Me from falling
Look at you, so silent.
Perhaps you're scared? Of what, I wonder.
As I have done nothing too brash or bold
Perhaps my sorrows have left you crushed
So in your defence, you crush me more,
And leave me withered and weeping,
Still gasping for the air I never really had,
The way a greedy gentleman treats a whore.
You would claim, I suppose,
That this is not the case at all
And continue to not tell me that the case may be
For it was my affection that was too high, you finally
I sit in my fairy garden
Amongst the shady trees, drinking tea,
And I wonder:
Do you even wish for my pardon?
Or do you find me so unalluring
That you never wish to see me alive
For when you do speak to me, you are
I do hope it is not so,
For I still love you.
And I still long for the
That you love me too.