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How can you grieve for what you hardly needed?
It's much too late. Just lose and let it be.
You never know which way the heart is headed.
Some good advice was not meant to be heeded.
I wouldn't show the world my jealousy.
How can you grieve for what you hardly needed?
I almost thought that we must be related—
Resemblance was the only thing to see;
You never know which way the heart is headed.
To give myself was to become depleted;
My love was always more than intimacy.
How can you grieve for what you hardly needed?
Fighting for you, I might have been defeated,
Or worse yet, made to woo an enemy.
You never know which way the heart is headed.
Despite it all, our lives might have been wedded
One afternoon, when you asked after me.
How can you grieve for what you hardly needed?
You never know which way the heart is headed.
An old-fashioned room is best for naps
in the afternoon—the translucent drapes
domesticate and chasten the light;
the baroque wallpaper is exhausting to look at
and leaves the inside of your eyelids swirling
with trivial daydreams. The wooden ceiling
is a humble promise of man-made heaven—
democratic and vast, built with planks so even
and regular they could extend forever
and not be cramped. The mattress is lumpy
enough that you don't feel lazy. The empty,
elegant furniture has long attested
to the dignity of being well-rested
and the outdated art cries out for a little while
longer to come back, at last, into style.