a poem

Love’s anguish lay cracked

Upon the lawn as broken glass — Sharp and wanting.

You flicked another cigarette butt

At my feet, not caring

For what crunched beneath.

Rising from your lips came

The last smoke ring

Curling through the air,

Taking your love with it

While you spoke in tongues

Of the ancient man-speak

Designed for womankind.

No music fell on my ears,

But the thud, thudding

Of desperation as you

Wriggled and made haste.

Perhaps the sound of your

Heartbeat set to fade

Made mine beat

Fast as compensation.

Reaching for the washing basket,

I made busy

Pretending shards of splinters

Under foot ceased to be

And the day’s tide

Could sweep away the pain.

Pegs in hand I hung

Out to dry what usually clothed you,

Though it would never come clean.

Empty babble floated

Past in meaningless droves.

Excuses, clever quips

Surrounded beds of dying flowers

No need to plant more

Seeds in poison ground.

There would be no more

Nurturing and tending.

This garden lived

Among the winterberries

So I turned to walk away.

Independent content creator, ghostwriter, author https://tinyurl.com/y2cgqhgv mental health advocate, and poet. bridgetwebbber@outlook.com

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