In just four short lines, the speaker describes giving something sincere and getting hurt for it. "I sang to you" suggests an open, vulnerable gesture, maybe affection or honesty. What comes back is a kind of theft: "You stole the air from my lungs." The speaker is left breathless, silenced, as if the very ability to sing has been taken away.
The last two lines turn the hurt into something worse. The other person "denied all" and then said the speaker "was at fault." So the speaker isn't just wronged but gaslit, told the harm was their own doing. The flat, plain wording makes this feel cold and final, with no space for argument.
The mood is bitter and stunned, a quiet anger mixed with exhaustion. The title, "Marcette, Swamp Hag," seems to name the person addressed, and the insulting nickname hints at resentment. The poem doesn't explain what happened, so we're left with only the speaker's side of the story.