We speak of old ghosts, 

You repeat lines,  

From the past, 

J. J. Angers me, 

For it was not his name, 

Again the same line, 

But he poured his heart, 

out to you

Don't I have a heart? 

Can't I still hear it beat? 

Can you? 

Or him? 

Or her? 

She speaks of places, 

Says she's wasted time on me, 

Benjamin Z, 

Didn't think so, 

When he read my work, 

If only......