Did I mistake this for that lovely thing
That draws some hearts to stir and to forgive;
That perfect tune the birds in springtime sing;
A lullaby that mothers ne'er outlive?
Do I within let go of all the past
That lingers where my heartstrings bear his name;
That grew me up, that made his childhood last,
That brought his lips to swear of love, aflame?
Must I still speak those words that play pretend;
That lie and steal, that hide and seek him there;
That keep him where he wants to live and end,
And hold him to a promise I don't share?
I, just a girl who knows where this will end.
He, just a boy whose love will never bend.