Pulling at opposite ends of a rope
we put in our best effort
we both won the contest, darling.
and bragged of our power.
I have nothing left at this hour
Except for a rope around my neck
made out of your honeyed voice
confessing love over and over again
Alas! choking is not much of a choice
a dancing derelict dream in my eyes
along with each cell in my heart dies
Poor wretched foolish ghost of mine
now revolves around your house
like a twitching old mouse
to make sure you drink your tea
Every afternoon, but you
Still, unbothered and lowkey
As if the wind took away some dust
off street
And I, gone, with bones and meat.