Ruled Out

             When it's my time to be leaving,
                   don't take my ticket away.
             That won't make me any more yours
             nor would it spare me your grieving,
             let me be leaving when it comes my day.
             I've been good careful to all my telling
                   so not a word of it do I need taking back,
             not even that one done for someone else
             since who it was aimed at's done compelling
             whatever my words could've lent that attack.
             I won't be needing no bedside confessor
                   trying to make me sorry to go
             not first seeing to what's not ruled out,
             picking at my words like a second-guesser
             with his ideas over all mine as though.
             Don't hold me back from the edge of the scissors,
                   not if you know me all too well
             like you say you do, like you do say.
             Give my best to all my well-wishers
             and leave me no marker where I fell.

formal attire

short of breath

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