A dream’s a thing of fancy

A heart demands the truth

To divine your heart, my dear

It should not take a sleuth.

A heart like mine is open

And ready to receive

An equal in proportion…

Though I’m a bit naive.

But you wear a mask, my dear,

I cannot see behind.

Why would you keep things from me?

It’s Fate, for sure—I’d find.

I’d find out that I quit, my dear,

And you behind my back

Continued smoking normally

And didn’t tell me jack.

Of course I would be mad, you know,

A violation of

The trust that I put into you

A rupture of our love.

And on these grounds we’ll never be

Compatible as one.

You live a life sep’rate from this,

And thus our love’s undone.

It should not take a genius

To divine why I’m mad.

Still, your leaving’s broken me

I’ve never been…