They have a code.
It tells them who to love.
They love in others what they do not see
That they possess themselves.
I know all the codes.
Why can’t I find one of them,
For my own?
A flutter of wings,
A momentary battle
“I know all the codes,” I gloat, preparing to dine,
“It makes you so easy to catch.”
“No,” he replies, “It’s my fault.
After all, I had to come to you.”
Can't I have anything?