You play my heart like a tense violin;
bent, twisted, strung off a step and a half below...

If you're sorry
be sorry...

Her eyes are dead
not swollen shut...

If you're miles and miles away
are our thoughts still the same...

Mi querido,
te amo...

I don't fit his cookie cutter vision.
I am too much dough...

Tell me, love,
what's on your mind...

The mind- it races
don't believe me...

A calmness settles deep within,
when I inhale your scent...

My heart pauses
only to pray...

And they tell me
she's fleeting from beauty...

I'd like my tokens of time
returned neatly into my pocket...