Can you see the wasting of my heart, or do you not see me still, in the confusion of all your need, that you carry burdens you do not need, and drag me behind your bleeding hope to need, but take me there please, if ever love was there, to the one graving those aged bearers of some other’s heart, and let fade into dirt, said my dream, what’s left of my heart, consumed by you
in parentheses 