There ought to be clowns

You have taken the moment
To distance yourself,
Reached the point where my pushing
Became a shove,
Where finally you get the hint.

Just as I find some courage.

Just as I am ready to begin.

You find yourself at the end
And I am left clinging on
To thread bare ropes,
With a prayer,
That if I talk and smile enough
For the both of us
You won’t leave.

Relinquish

I don’t turn up for the battle,
Not because I hate you
Or am angry,
Rather I am sad.
And drained.
And some days I forget
If we are friend or foe.
Days where I want to laze in the sun,
Not plough through the mud,
Churning over old ground
For small advances.
Days where my absence might at least
Afford you victory.

Loose ends

The girl served you well,
Best of the best,
Each passing hour rendering her
Dutiful beyond her lowly commission.

The moments at your side
Weighted in her solitude,
Waiting for the dawn.

The fracture in time when you,
Her mistress,
Finally took the bait
To cast her aside.

An idea
She had been more worthy
Than nature intended,
Banished.

Tasks once intimate, prized,
Pulled from under life weary feet,
Returned,
Reclaimed,
Simply an act.

A role.

Expected.

With nowhere left to go.

Apart from faded hallways,
Echoing to the sounds
Of life
Continuing, unabated, as hers
Is gently wound up.