I want to know what loves about,
to understand it inside out.
What makes it tick what makes it tock,
what makes it roll what makes it rock.
I've got a scalpel and a pen,
to cut then note then cut again.
In honesty I'm not that sure,
this broken heart knows love no more.
I think I've severed any hope,
of knowing how the lovers cope.

Twould be better had thou never found me
best that fate had intervened
to turn your face
and stay your step
muting thy tongue with hush-ed lips
stealing back
your first sweet words
that drew me to you
close
time is the crowbar of the soul
widening the cracks
that formed
when er' I inadvertently hurt you.