Tell me your pleasures
and I will fulfill them.
Tell me your ache
and I will feel it.

Prescribe me your medicine
and I will fill it,
‘cause you know
I’ll double the dose.

Donate your worries
and I will dispose.
Rent me your lips
and I’ll forget to return them.

Not that I would,
if I remembered.
Nor that I could;
you wouldn’t let it.

Don’t give me credit,
it was already written
across those pages
I fell asleep on.

The night was chill
but we were warm.
We dreamt on our swing
and I heard you sing.

The moon was your chorus,
you sung it so lovely;
and the breeze, a melody
mesmerized within our eyes.

No words were spoken,
yet it never ended.
I was inside you,
and you were inside me, too.