These foolish things I say
you read and throw away
mere distractions to you
I fumble with on cue
intangibles of my heart
picked and torn apart
My pride is swallowed whole
Like a lump of black charcoal
Waiting for you to ignite
no spark brings no light
so I shiver in the cold dark
singing malodorously as a lark
hoping you’ll be spurred
by my every word
but you won’t even stir
at each blemish or slur
I think you would prefer
If I took back these foolish things
But I only give them wings