Some things need folding
To fit where they shouldn't be
In the lives of others,
of families
of men
Pictures are disposable
But no one has the heart to let them go.
Maybe thats why they fold people up
placing them in their pockets
and with every lie and new girl
another crease
moving quickly away
from the breast pocket, the heart
smaller and smaller
another crease, another crease
As though the smaller someone is,
the less they exist.
And another crease.
For all it was worth
for all your creasing and mine
I never did have the sense to ball you up
and throw you away.
The less you exist, the closer you are to the bin
Maybe I'm as sweet as they say I am
I never had the heart to get rid of you.
