Cash and bother and waste.

I've given him more than my body, more than my mind.
I laid my dreams upon his altar,
I let him lay down inside.

The goals I had are in the mist now
and everything is shared
and I shed an old armour
that, when with him, could not be there.

The level of quiet is only aided
when he, peacefully, sleeps
and the whips and binds that hold me down here
come in jobs, lists and receipts.

I share everything I have
even my discontent
and he knows nothing still of my passions,
more and more locked away inside his head.

Where do you begin to build bridges
when you've discarded the skills
and how do you recall what you don't know?
Who can bear this unwanted bill?