to your half-hearted glance; crossing
every distant star, surely I brought
down the entire night sky for you,
and all you could do was sigh.
I know it wouldn't matter, even
if my eyes really were bleeding,
if I worked through the morning
just to get this written down;
If I were to tap your shoulder,
close your palms around this poem
and walk away, you'd call me back,
thrust the lyrics down my throat
and tell me I'm wasting words.
What difference would it make if
I were to fall from the face of earth?
What difference would it make if I
stopped breathing at your knees?
I was only polluting your air.
Spoiler
rant.
