I remember when our tale began,
You wrote me a poem and would recite it again and again.
You are still with me but somehow I feel alone.
If you love me no more, send me home.
Tell me the fault is not with me but with you.
I will believe it even if I know it not to be true.
For now I feel like a bull with no horn.
If your love has depleted, send me home.
I will weep and for this great loss, mourn.
I will despise you and deem it the end of the world.
Come what may, I rather you do not lead me on.
If I have overstayed my welcome, send me home.