Blue 8

The way you speak, the way you act

Leaving everything in the worst of disgust

Those little gestures you can’t avoid

They display your deceitful nature

And an attitude that senses failure

Of the incarceration of my heart

In your fishmonger’s disguise

Like the fish rots from the head

In Brasserie on London Street

Where we supposed to be

But the sight of the sea took away our courage

And cast it to the wind

Leaving only the cowardly trickster

Disguised as a middle-aged man

A father, a husband, a collector of women

Almost like butterflies

Just taken from the calendar

From last year

Invalid, obsolete

But colourful

It was your rainbow spreading charm

With your words, hands, lips

Blurred by your blurbs

Babbling nonsensical things

Where I was and with whom I spent the afternoons

In fact, I’ve always been alone

Waiting for you to stop

Your conjecture of my imaginary lovers

But there was no point

So, you tucked your tail

As anticipating agony dog

Who barked, turned around, and never came back

*

31 October 2021

revised on 12 January 2022

***

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