you keep visiting me in the middle of the night
and I'm not sure if you want a doctor
to assauge you of illness-related frights
or just witness you as you falter

this face can represent anything
that you so desperately want it to be
a relic of bygone days where we'd dance and sing
and at end of days, lie stretched out under towering trees

do you remember when you vowed
that you'd take a bullet for me
and you let me set myself on fire
just so that your damned lungs could breathe

if I pined for something unattainable any more
I'd become a blasted pine tree, crashing dead through your front door

so cradle my face in your hands and kiss goodbye your fate
because I'd love to be the person you hate