I've been called a tease, sometime heart-breaker.
I never wanted to break yours 'cause
I know hearts are like fine ceramics.

Repaired, you can still see the cracks.

Baby, your cracks are chasms. So what are mine?
I'm afraid to do this because
I know you'll lose a piece or two.

And I know you'll lose your peace, too.

Pots missing pieces don't hold things well.
I promise, you held me just fine.
I need you to know this isn't what

I want to do to you.

There are few things I want more
Than to see you happy.
There's no rhyme or rhythm.

And I'm sorry.