Who You Are To Me
Did you hear the gong strike three? It marked the day's end for you and me.. The mallet robbed from my fingers Struck by your pretentious force. The veil lifted when hands caressed four Lust driven alphabets Ceased stringing to form desire Disregard always steaming at the core. Back to the origin Of gullibility and the thrill of persuasion Battered into disturbing distraction And the false comfort of satisfaction. Who you are to me When the minutes crawl up to five And reality gushes from torn wounds Washing away short-loved joy forever. When darkness comes for six And lightning streaks across the beating heart Burning through the charred remains Of your forbidden song. Who you are to me Seven and the limp reminder of your apathy Say the joke's on me, on me, on me The never-choice, lost to the wind of oblivion Of who I am to you.