you married me to your hand
and divorced me from your sight
you led me blindly with no plan
just ahead with wistful plight
and I knew not to feel any better
or inclination for more
because I too was looking for a past love
and through you to tie the score
we bound each other fruitfully
to the future hope of redress
and found a way to live for love
fowarded from a previous address
yes, now the only mail we get
is sent from despair to hope
it's safe to say you can make closeness
and care well enough to cloak
and now, though our marriage is just
a carriage for memory to ride,
it strikes me just the same as other people's;
a convenient way to forget and lie.
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