how shameful to think back
to the moments that the words on the tip of my tongue
were sweetheart and honey
threatened to soften any tone or direction
And to look back
And think to the moment where on yours
lay the crude beauty of truth
setting me free of the rhythmic phonetic shackles of love
to find we were singing different songs all along and both out of tune
I dread listening back to the records to find the proof
but it isn’t shameful, as I’m trying to learn,
There is a strength to trying, but let’s not pretend –
was either one of us stronger or right in the end?