I'm not a singer I hush

I give you a piece of me with every smile
and when you walk with her
and every time to you talk
to your respective her
that piece of me
is flushed out of my life.

Every little thing I write
to you is not my intelligence.
Every time I say I miss you
its not to be polite or to end the letter.
Every time another he another she
walk down the road hand in hand
and a piece of me lies crushed.
I oil my hair
they gather dust.
I avoid metals
they rust.
Burnt cake crust
tastes just like my hush,
the singers are the winners.