It was a dream
Or a vision
Or an absolute truth
That they called out for a Prometheus
And they referred to me

Words fail me more
Often than help.
So forgive me
If there is no explanation
For this.
(I would like one too.)
But I'm trying to contemplate
How
Or why.
A Cynic became a Romantic
Or how a heart was grown
Just for you to break.

I'm strapped and
Trapped to this rock.  
Everyday you rise
To tear the
Beating muscle
My vestibular mind
From me.

And let it fall to the dust
And I bleed.

Then:
Before you lay down
You return
Place your hands in
That cavity.
Do you pray?
Or do you merely find a spare?
But you give me
My heart back.  
But I bleed.
(For you: I will always bleed. )
And you sleep,
And bid me a goodnight.

But then you rise
And we repeat.

But would I remove the chains
Or the scars
If I found a key?
Maybe.
But I like to think
If you were different
It wouldn't be the same
And I wouldn't have
you any other way.