It was your distant tip toe that I swore
I heard approaching softly to my door.
Closer you crept to where you stood before
and I wondered just what you had in store.
Well, I abhor that you even dare to explore
from the audacious height from which you soar.
You ignored the hole within me you tore
after you swore “us” something you stood for.
I’m sorry but my will is weakened and my back is sore.
Therefore I reject everything within your repertoire
even as I once adored what you showed at your core.
I have served as a prisoner of love, not war
and dismiss the notion of the desire you call for.
So stand there and remember what you swore to care for
as I look you in the eye and quietly close the door.
