One missing thing.
A final kiss goodbye before we expire.
Not a word of thank you.
As you now lay dying, impaled on love's fatal spike.
Thank you for moments.
And for measurable pleasures, once or twice.
Jesus Christ they were so nice.
What were silken ribbons, turned in strings.
Frayed at the edges, melted to seal.
The way once two did feel.
From you there were no thanks for times of worry spent.
I realise now in ignorance your heart was only lent.
Hope your birthday was a blast.
To worry anymore is daft!
(c) Livvi