It was Me

Remember when we hadn’t a clue
Who put the butterknife
In the jam jar,
And you asked me, privately,
And I shook my shoulders,
Told you it wasn’t me.

Well…
I’m sorry for another memory
That one near valentines when
You lovingly prepared a date,
Balloons, handmade cards and
Bow-wrapped gifts.
I was hungover, I guess ungrateful
And an hour late.
Do you remember when I promised
To do it that winter?
But as nights drew cold and dark
There still was a missing piece
On your finger.
Whatever I said: it was me,
Nobody else but me.
It was me; it was me;
It was me.