I think I took this all too seriously,
but I had too many reveries about cemeteries and dirt belonging to someone else,
too many to not take this all with something more than a grain of salt
These last years of mine were spent wondering why I was never enough for you,
and it was only yesterday that I took my reveries and I reveled in the fact that all of that nonsense had nothing to do with me,
and everything to do with you----
Muses were only muses when they were out of reach of their inventor,
that is what I believed,
because of you,
and only you,
I was wrong about that and so much more,
about my thoughts that our life had been scored by the boss sounds of a grand piano,
but this was a silent movie,
and there were keystones,
and legends,
and finite grammatical things to define us,
but I no longer wanted you for that muse,
I no longer wanted you for that use,
These last years of mine were spent believing in the pitiful life of the chronically dissatisfied,
singing solo in a duet destined for failure,
and I had greater ambitions than even I knew were possible,
and more,
greater still----
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