You�ve made me cry
Makes me just want to die
Yeah, darling, let�s be banal about
It.
Let�s take the words and
Spit them out smooth,
Let�s strip them of meaning
Until meaning doesn�t
Hurt anymore.
Let�s pile on the cliches,
Let�s bring in another
Tortured rhyme.
Why don�t we
Fuck with the meter,
Write a sad song
And set it to a happy tune?
Let�s be friendly,
Let�s be cordial.
I�ll sit in my corner and
You�ll sit in yours,
Smiling politely at
Each other.
(But that�s not what I feel for you.)
I wrote you a real
Letter one night.
Gasping from word
To word, sobbing
As I set it all down:
The short sad story of you
And me.
Sometimes screaming,
Tearing up the pages,
Fighting with or forgetting
All the pretty words
That are my stock-in-trade.
No
Literary conventions
To save me then--it was just me
Alone in a room with a pen,
A few scraps of paper,
And the ghost of you.
At some point I
Opened a window and leaned
Out. Didn�t count the
Stars, didn�t think about
The moon, couldn�t think
Of you. I failed at the formula,
I know: I should have cried
Pretty, should have sighed
Should have lied, should have
Died. But all I did
Was get some fresh air,
Clear my head,
And close the shutters
Against the night.
All I did
Was pick up the pen,
Put down
the words we�ll
Never say
And close myself away from
You; close myself
Away in a way no
Rhyming couplet
Ever could.