The piece you will never have

incomplete, wet dream, like not a single one before her
a mark like a mole on the side a of a beautiful face
a marked man.

And you so cleverly played him like a poker game
with an ace up your sleeve.

What was left behind is not worthless, it's just damaged goods
what you left behind is worthless, a smile and a stone heart

resource, the air is gone, the waters tainted, by promises of wine
appear like Jesus in the morning, explaining last nights headache
wipe the blood of your mouth, it looks vulgar
explain to me why this is not over, because it never began.

So take blood, take feelings and bury them inside you
that's where you have taken them, but not where they belong
they must be ashes, burnt ashes, only then and there
will there be equal share of loneliness, guilt and anger