Tonight you stooped to my level,

I am your mangy little whore,

now you're trying to find your underwear,

then your socks, and then the door.

And your trying to find a reason

why you have to leave.

But I know its cause you think you're Adam

you think I'm Eve.

You rhapsodize about beauty

my eyes glaze

everything I love is ugly

I mean really, you would be amazed.

Just do me a favor,

it's the least that you can do.

Just don't treat me like I am

something that's happened to you.

Cause I am,

I am truly sorry about all this.

You put a tiny pin prick

in my big red balloon,

and as I slowly start to exhale,

that's when you leave the room.

And I did not design this game.

I did not name the stakes,

I just happen to like apples

and am not afraid of snakes.

But I am,

I am truly sorry about this.

And I envy you,

your ignorance.

I hear that its bliss.

So I let go the ratio

of things said to hings heard,

as I leave you to your garden,

and the beauty you preferred.

And I wonder what of this will have meaning

for you when you've left it all behind.

I think I'll even wonder if you meant it at the time.