I write in the vernacular, a drag
Sometimes I sigh or silently I sag
With life and with stupidity
I strive, make it less complicated though
I throw complexity out my window
To speak simply of chemistry
If I just said I love you, you would think
One too many, or, needs another, drink
How then should truth be spoken? True
Love’s a landmine fraught with complexity:
What does he offer, what’s he want from me?
You ask, poor little frightened, you.
I want the moon and stars, and the planets,
That’s about as demanding as it gets,
But if you can’t, your heart will do.
If I had aught to give, as offerings…
Alas, but as the antihero sings,
“Love me, that’s all I ask of you.”