it didnt matter to me that
you had itchy poison
under your arm, I still
would have held you close
while you say that we can never
be anything more than
what we already are.

It didnt matter to me that
I was on the outside looking
in while on the inside
you're looking up at pulsating
tree leaves while there is
lead socks in your shoes
as the peanut gallery wears
funky hats when you told
me you loved me insignificantly.

It didn't matter to me
you wanted other opportunity,
I knew you'd hang around and
I'd hear your vocal sounds
even if it rained during
shining sun, even if winter
had no spring, I'd linger
and be a singer of your lore.