You won’t ever know
The sore cap
Of my knee
You won’t ever know
The dryness
Of my lips
I don’t need
Your pity or
Your guilt or
Your sense of
Accomplishment
At being a nice
Gentle and kind
Boy-thing
(I’d rather hear you say
I bore you
Than speak
To a dead ear
I’d rather hear you say
You hate me
Than love
A silent thing)
You won’t ever know
How I exist and
How near
You won’t ever know
But I’m sure
That’s fine with you
My dear
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 2:47 PM UTC
You won’t ever know
The sore cap
Of my knee
You won’t ever know
The dryness
Of my lips
I don’t need
Your pity or
Your guilt or
Your sense of
Accomplishment
At being a nice
Gentle and kind
Boy-thing
(I’d rather hear you say
I bore you
Than speak
To a dead ear
I’d rather hear you say
You hate me
Than love
A silent thing)
You won’t ever know
How I exist and
How near
You won’t ever know
But I’m sure
That’s fine with you
My dear
