To keep me happy

A lie hung on the line
 A scar on my wrist
 a weak prison yet
  a comforting place to rest

              The head sags, the dripping crown.

Bent low like a broken man
when he knows he's beat yet
stumbles on to loathe

A woman he misses
Who shakes his chains
And topples his sullen throne

                     I wear it often
                     too much in fact
                     to keep me happy

                  When I'm missing you

A habit that grew
 through
 and
through

Heavy with the weight of these
damping thoughts
I
collect these bones I
call them holy and
chew them cold yet
Though I have tried
        to give them up I—
can't relate to what you mean
when you say it's not wrong
to have
   strayed.