Is it true
what you said,
in the grip of the plague?
That you would love me and my broken musicbox.
I said the worst thing I could, to save you from pain...
Oh the pain it must have
caused,

Accusations,
allegations of my limitations,
I know something in you
still feels my wet tears on your hand.
Twice from the chasm edge you recalled me.
Now I wonder,
if there is a miracle left in the bag of light.

Didn't I bring a sparkle to your laugh
in the days before I tasted poisoned honey.
I built collages for what I thought was you.
I see the weariness in your words,
shake me from this world.

Once,
you made me smile through agony,
when I fell from the greatest height.
Now,
the very thought of your smile,
drives a thousand pins into my head.
Tomorrow,
another piece of me will be missing,
never to be recovered, permanant loss.