Authors, Writers, Publishers, and Book Readers
This is my last word, and I hope that you hear it.
It's the least you could do.
This is the last time; I've finally accepted.
All I say is nothing short of true:
You left a wound so deep, it seems unreal;
I bled so fast, it seemed I had no hope to heal.
It's all that I could do to stay alive
when my heart didn't want to survive.
This is the result when
somebody's soul has been
shredded up to vapors in the air.
When the one who's done the tearing doesn't care.
Why am I talking as if you don't already know?
You tended well the seeds that you've sown.
I've cried out with too many tired rhymes.
I've pumped this dead thing's heart too many times.
I've set alight my reasons to hold on.
The era of loving you, my dear, is gone.
Like a dream at the dawning of the day,
like Autumn colors dimming to Winter gray,
every bit of beauty has its price.
I've paid enough, it's time to let it die.