so, why start now?  We did
our own thing,
which didn’t amount to much, except
happiness. That’s what carried me, when the lights

went out and it was cold outside. That’s what
carried me when I fell headfirst and split,
when I cut my breast, and the madness –
yes over what,

I couldn’t guess. That’s what did it,
but not me in. I gave you everything I had,
which in truth wasn’t much
since I was stunted. But we wrote it up

as we went along. How could we know the end? This time
let’s make a different ending. I always hated endings.
Forget what I said –
about an ending that is.