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.