So I say to thee, sing of me to future lovers.
Do not hold words behind teeth in fear of grief.
For they must be freed if life is to breathe seeds.
Whom sow and sprout forth,
in this garden true love grow north
toward bluer skies from open wounds,
dark thoughts and even darker moods.
Passion swoon like most fevers do
soon to pass as wellness looms.

This is not forever.

I know this to be true, sing of me to future lovers.
No matter how off beat or out of tune
Sing the way most old lovers do
full of hate, regret and true dismay.
Make mockery of my poetry
the heart felt things I'd say.
Call me a liar, a ******* and a no good cheat
but remember with each word you speak
remember; to remember it was always me.