You will always be to me the last good thing I give up on. The wholly holy hole I refuse to refill. The beating I gave my heart when it wouldn’t lie still, You’re the restless wake at night that a bottle can’t kill. You’re the infinite finale from my foray in futility, The period on the sentence that I’d wrote in hostility. I thought I aught not recall what I left, but if you never look back, then you’ll never progress. And progress means remembering the things you have learned, and what I learnt best is even good men can burn . I swear I did care, but I wasn’t aware that the pain I quashed inside of me had ahold of my hair, and pushed my head under where the Waters weren’t sound-So I pulled us both asunder, `stead of letting me drown. And maybe I should have warned you that I was a little bit crazy. And maybe I should have warned you I was built out of maybes. And maybe I should have warned you when depressed I am lazy and that negative thoughts had been infesting me daily. But give me due process while I’m out on the lam-You weren’t a lamb to slaughter, and your clichés were canned: “Instant family, just add Waters.” like our life a was a joke. But the joke is now on me, and it’s one that you wrote. All that was left when good times were broke, was a steel allen wrenched yoke and the last laugh just a choke in my throat, cause I haven’t been able to bring myself to throw out that thing. Although it still stings it was our wedding ring. Or your name, it’s quite strange: I still wear it with shame. A cold mantle to remind me that love’s not a game. And to give yourself time if you want to give in, to finish what you start if you want to begin, to always trust your heart and the love that’s within. Yet to always test the waters first before you jump in.