For all your promises and kind words
You are not here.
I have no faith! That's a fact, and you are faithless to me;
And I believe in that like I believe the Earth is round.

Where were you last night when I wanted to hear your voice?
When I had to endure this person popping in to see you?
Sorry, didn't think anyone was in...
So pretty, this person. Poppy, her name, a scarlet flower
Like the colour of my breaking heart.

Did you tell them I was non-existent?
And do you use me as only an 'imaginary' paramour?
The truth being far too shameful to admit,
That I exist and that I love you, and that it is you who are weak
With your weaknesses for flesh, and sordid flowers.

You cry like a crying of wolves when I leave.
You talk to me sweetly about tiny things,
You give me the edges of the puzzle, and I have to imagine
The bigger picture. I'm living an imaginary life
And that is on your shoulders.

I'm lacking a soul, or so you say, and you cannot see
That it is you who is making my life soulless
Draining my colour, turning me grey.
You act as though it is me who drags you down,
But that is only life my dear, and if you wish to ascend to your heaven,
Truly, you'll find no halting hand from me.