Give me that vase,
for it intricate carvings,
matter most to me.

It tells a story I’d relate,
if you hadn’t just told me,
of your letter’s meaning.

Give me those keys,
that hang by your neck,
the car is really mine.

I’d rather you kept them,
if you didn’t let me go,

Give me that box,
that sits in your purse,
that ring was once mine.

I’d rather you wore it,
if you hadn’t thrown me,
your angry kneading.

Give me that heart,
that you hold so carelessly,
I hope you don’t drop it.

I’d rather you kept it,
if you hadn’t told me,
you were leaving.