You're no Robin Hood
You were no good
But that's OK -
I'm no Maid Marian

Memory may have its way
Of preserving people
But we were careful
And we left no spaces
For nostalgia to grow in

But still, through all our work
Something broke into our fortresses
Something was stolen, or
Maybe something was left

It doesn't have to define us
Still, it is a mark
And I know your fingers -
You will play with it

And if I scratch my breastbone
The itch will not be a scar
Left by your arrow
Or your absence