We Try, My Love

I played you some music,
but the tone was downbeat and devastating,
you laughed,
and claimed it suited my melancholy nature.

I cooked you some dinner,
but the feast was drab and pointless,
you flinched,
and told me it was an acquired taste,

I read you some poetry,
but the theme became lost and confused,
you wept,
and lied that the words were beautiful.