With you,
Lied all my happiness,
With you,
All that made me gay.

With you,
Goes away all my sadness,
At night,
Your smiles make my day.

Now without you,
I’m just a man with a flower,
Empty in a blank kind of way—

Because whenever I’m with you,
I’m more than half a man.

And more than half is missing,
Now that you’ve up and gone…

And as they mark this tattoo on my hand,
     my flower,
     pitch black,
     in mourning for you—
All I can do is shove all my tears inside…

Remembering that half of me,
Cost the death of you…

     —this is just the ‘smart thing’
     that men always tend to do—