we would kiss each other in places where the sun don't shine, and in that moment, boy, you were mine
but every fruit rots and dries when left out in the sun for too long, and your voice began to crack while you sang me your song
i would ladle honey and ambrosia into your mouth and hope for the best, knowing that i already knew about the rest
anyway, the sun still shone and you were glad you weren't alone
but now i'm alone and i don't ever pick up the phone, because you don't call
- wolf
