I shall keep you close to my heart
And smother you with my art

The change in my pocket isn't enough to bring about change
It's strange that accepting this doesn't make me feel strange

The twenty pack I casually smoke away
Keeps me from worrying how much I make in a day

As I read thoroughly every article in the paper about you
It makes me wonder, am I really glad that we're through?

I fear leaving the confines of my thoroughly sanitised bubble
For I know that when I enter again, so shall rubble

Poised atop the rubble out there stands a figure, bruised and weary
Her eyes glisten not with lust but with passion; her thoughts, priceless; but her looks, dreary

As always I shall try and end on a high
As per the Wright brothers, if you obsess enough, one day you WILL fly.