He gently pressed upon me
That scar doesn't heal quickly though
Tint of dismay I bury my face
Herefore I place my name
Second shelf of the bookcase
Facing away from the desk to the bed
Settle hand brushing each title and bookend
turning back to his love
the offered sap of sagacious tongue
his utter worry for my heart
the inner idea of another betrayal
smothered so easily