What I would give to hear you say something nice.
A word or words of love spoken gently in my ear.
               “What are we?”

A question I’ve asked while laying in your arms.
And the reply from you was something generic…

It’s doubtful you’ve even once consulted your heart at all.
What I would give to say you’ve brought value to me.
You do nothing!
Nothing, but annoy me while you are here, and I hate myself for wanting you back when you leave.
              “What are we doing?”
Other than tolerating the convenience of this love.

The moment one part stumbles into something they think is better, well…that will be the last time one part will seek a certain unsustainable comfort from the other during the night.
The acquiesce matter of giving all ones passion away in vain.
Not a word or words have been spoken from the heart, and though it is shameful, neither parts mind at all.

Coincidence is the nature of how many of us meet.
But an inconvenience on one parts behave is the nature of how apart both fall.

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