I wrote her a song,
but her sad smile tore it to shreds
and I couldn’t bear to sing it anymore.
I swore I would piece it together
for her one day,
unshred and unshard the notes
to put a happier smile on her face.
She told me she loved me,
and I heard the past tense
too clearly in that sad smile of hers.
She couldn’t help it, I know.
She loved me, she did,
but I never could keep that song
from falling to pieces.