I’m not going to bleed for you, darling.
I have sorrows enough of my own.
I wholeheartedly offered you home,
The one you rejected and left.
Now you must make your own.
I hope you find it within you soon.
My heart is a low-lit room,
I don’t forgive you yet.
Such an insensitive question.
Yes, there’s a ring on my finger,
A simple silver band,
Many long years on my hand.
I wear it for one simple reason,
To remind me I’m my own.
If my words trouble or hurt you,
I am very sorry for that.
There’s only one place I escape to at night,
When I can’t get you out of my head.
I have to write.
If not, I would leave all my pages
Empty and woundedly white.