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.