Don’t make me write a love song
I’d rather cry, I’d rather shriek
Don’t make me take a pen and free
The thunder, the sun and rain in me.
Don’t make me write about him …
On how his eyes implored …
On how his smile itself was an incantation
With a silence I could never ignore
Don’t make me sing about the beauty
Of being in the warmth of his arms
Don’t make me remember myself melting at the feel
Of his every whispered promise on my ear
Don’t make me tell the story of
How I fell for his tenderness
Don’t make me tell the truth about
How he broke me with his last caress
Don’t make me write a love song when
His memory is the only thing I could tell
Don’t make me write any bit about love
And how he played with me so exceedingly well.
