Give me too much
Until little it takes
And I'll be wasting away
In a field of either unthought or none
No pace to set or mind to bind
There is nothing of theirs
In this most unkind form of lost

Truth without arrogance
Flattery without flaunting mind
Seeing your turned back I keep coming back to
Just as those truer lost words you will probably never find

In such an unburdening lost
Round yourself within another binding tie
And be free of the circling expectative ring
As this just ine memory molded makes my clay heart sing

And so
I ask you this nothing now
Can we just skip the second awkward remembrance and
Can I just go ahead and buy you a cup of coffee or something
?

We aren’t living and dying
   (in this world)
      The living and dying are     of   this world