Dear Emily Dickinson

Do you find me beautiful?
Do you still want me around?
It’s hard to read your thoughts
When I fall asleep next to myself
And you gave me Emily
I gave you movie screens
Asked you to marry me
I wasn’t thinking clearly
I’m not a martyr
I’m not a saint
I never said that I was perfect
Never said you were to blame
I wrote you poetry
About the way we kissed
I guess it’s been a while
I just write grocery lists
Can you please get these things
On your way from work?
I wanna cook us dinner
And make love afterwards
I’m not a martyr
I’m not a saint
I never said that I was perfect
Never said you were to blame
When that which is
And that which was
Apart, intrinsic, stand
I’m still loving you the same
Yeah, I’m still loving you the same
Yeah, I’m still loving you the same
Yeah, I’m still loving you the same
Yeah, I’m still loving you the same