Tonight you stooped to my level,
I am your mangy little whore,
now you're trying to find your underwear,
then your socks, and then the door.
And your trying to find a reason
why you have to leave.
But I know its cause you think you're Adam
you think I'm Eve.
You rhapsodize about beauty
my eyes glaze
everything I love is ugly
I mean really, you would be amazed.
Just do me a favor,
it's the least that you can do.
Just don't treat me like I am
something that's happened to you.
Cause I am,
I am truly sorry about all this.
You put a tiny pin prick
in my big red balloon,
and as I slowly start to exhale,
that's when you leave the room.
And I did not design this game.
I did not name the stakes,
I just happen to like apples
and am not afraid of snakes.
But I am,
I am truly sorry about this.
And I envy you,
your ignorance.
I hear that its bliss.
So I let go the ratio
of things said to hings heard,
as I leave you to your garden,
and the beauty you preferred.
And I wonder what of this will have meaning
for you when you've left it all behind.
I think I'll even wonder if you meant it at the time.
