You are sure my life is broken.
You are praying for my wholeness-
Albeit simple ...
it's not bad.
I'm looking through tinsel and
I don't want what 'you' call Love...
Though you sing rather sweetly of ---
Your words, attractive yet empty;
Generic, clean of any tell...
Hallowed be the lie
Death in a golden shell.
For having known love and what that means
In its fullness, it is free
Of bridled words or schemes.
No... I'm not perfect
Who wants to live that lie?
I'm simply saying
There are worse things than goodbye.
Small closets... no growth in staying.
Small closets... where Souls slowly die.