Oh God Not Again

I have a talent for intangible things
My lady, and I can make you fly
Through the stratus and make you ring
The bell that makes the angels cry

And all I want in return
Is just the slightest company
That you can afford to give me
For with every word I write I burn

Yet you never say that you need me
And even these words you never read
Though its my fault, I never give them to you
For who wants to hear one whine
In bastard, baleful poetry