Aphasia breeds me next I fear
Already pleurisy infects the lung
And soon will scour for the other
Leaving me a remnant, my dear
Would you love me even then?
Would you love me as much when?
All of me
All of these things
You know me
You know what’s below
And that which melts beneath
But I ask the question still,
Even as the answer stands so clear,
I knew you would. You always have.
Merry Christmas to everyone.