Shakespeare spoke of love,
Many years ago...

They called me a loser
In a race I never ran...

Thank me not for things I say of you,
As upon you I pour great praise...

I have known regret.
I have known sorrow...

Some say a man in love is at his best,
Say I, we are at our worst...

I miss the taste of your lips, so sweet.
I miss you poking me in the side...

I gave up on you and me
When I was confused...