Now it's all coming back to me…

 

You left,

not at my insistance

but my implosion.

The coil, wound so tight

it snapped and slapped

on the recoil, rebound.

And I was glad, finally

to have some piece

of myself

to myself

for peace.

But,

to hide

I buried myself

inside

the burrows of work,

wrapped my solitude in reading,

acted out other existences

upon a stage

so that I did not play my own.

I sought solace in my classes

and the bottom of pint glasses.

And so, to report,

I cheated,

cut the long story short

or

so I thought.

For now you stalk my dreams

and everywhere I turn

your loving whispers

and your agonising screams

takes my whole to smithereens.

I butter my breakfast toast

with what should have beens

and swallow

like I'd peppered it with thorns.

31^st July 1999