Whatever I might try to write will fail
For all that I can say's already said
In one gigantic half-ecstatic wail
Which you, I must suspect, already read.
So why will I continue to persever
In writing what I know you know too well?
Why am I so obsessed with this endeavor
To put us both through such repeated hell?
I cannot cease because I cannot stay
The well of my emotion which upswells
And therefore I'm compelled to say and say
No matter if there's meaning in my tells.
So listen once again to this tale of
The way I feel, and how I miss and love.
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