You showed me the words,
Which I did not ask to read,
Which I needed to read,
Which you needed to show me,
Which I wanted to hear.
Your poems were strangely beautiful,
Beautifully expressed,
Beautifully composed;
They told a story,
A story of hell.

I cannot remember the question,
But I do remember the answer I gave,
Without mercy,
That I had, we had,
Given my own daughter the happiest of childhoods.

Soon you and I shall dance together,
And after, you shall tell another story,
In words and pictures.
A story of a woman and a man;
It will not be strange or beautiful
But normal and safe.