'Suffer, Lover' She Must Have Said
If you could only see
The way you make me suffer now,
How I pitch and toss around the floor,
Exhausted by the things you tell me,
And my open cuts.
We get sick to the touch
And the talk:
Better to sleep away the day
But sleep is harder to come by
Than four-leaf clovers.
I am in love,
But it’s frustrating to love you.