A cuppa steaming on the window seal,
Droplets of rain shimmering in the red-lights.
It’s time to let it be, be aloof and still
The nerves, the games, the useless fights.
The Earth will spin regardless of the wish,
The private tragedy, truly, is just that.
And vengeance is a bitter, poisoned dish
Served cold or hot – the rest is trivial chat.
The Universe is harsh and bitter place,
Allergic to the bubbling happiness, indeed.
What I’d not give to see your smiling face…
But you’re not here and I’m consumed by need.
A need to understand what’s left is now,
And this unbound and vast, and empty space.
I may, of course, just chicken out and bow,
You surely did not spare me much of grace.
I may revive the good old days,
When all I wished for was a selfish meander,
Along the city lights that brought the daze,
When no one asked me to be candour.
The greedy touches up the famished skin,
Fake friends, fake loyalties, fake skies.
At least, I knew what I was getting in,
No knives in rib cage, no goodbyes.
The cup is steaming on the window seal,
It’s time to pack my love and leave.
The only comfort is the knowledge: it was real,
And it’s my penalty for being so naïve.