I asked the tired clichés, to do away
With everything I feel for you.
They yawned they didn't have the strength, nor the murderous intent
To see a task like that one through.
I asked the eggs in the trees
To fall and join me on the ground.
On hearing my scream, their Mother
Flew on down
And she sang to me
So delicately

Of how a yolk in a shell in a bed
Is like a brain in a skull in a head

Insofar as it's exactly where it needs to be
Yet oh so, oh so very easily
Tempted away.
By hollow huntresses like me.
And so I explained,
There's a bottle in my hand, oblivion
Doesn't know my first name.
It hasn't spread to my heart, though I know it's weight
For I've carried some shame.
But I was taught to feel gratitude
The same way I feel my own blood
-feel it coursing through me as the sun hits the autumn leaves.

I was taught to feel the same, about love.

For as long as I live and breathe.
But every day I get a little less sure on how it's achieved
Or if it will ever be
Ever be enough.