I look back on those things that we said;
When I told you, it was the truth:
I was willing to let you mess up a million times
I just wanted to be here to forgive you.

I can't even think
Of what I should write, or say
I'm just so tired.

Tomorrow I have decided
I will explain all the poems I write;
For each and every haiku,
I'll give you a little insight.

If I write about fire, I'll tell you
I feel happy or angry or inspired
And if they're about my bedroom,
Then I'm probably really tired.

I don't think this needs explanation
It's not very creative, I know...
But the next time I hit you with syllables,
I'll explain every joy and woe.