that's what i've established.
it's been bothering me for the weeks, now; that's it.
i made it quick, said the right things,
pushed your buttons, touched you in the right places...
it's all a dance.
a macabre dance that we entertained while our lovers were miles away.
it was permissible, yes. what irony, then, when you gave up.
it was unexpected,
like having your surgeon withdraw the scalpel in mid-slice,
like a dentist who left the flouride in,
like a chef who forgot to put the fire out and left,
like you and me, quickly simmering and dying in the morning light.
i claimed you from him. you know that.
i'm no thief, though. i didn't steal you.
i offered myself, and you conceded.
i am not a thief. your heart was mine.
our eyes met, and your heart was mine.
it wasn't as though i was forced to
say the right things
touch you correctly
whisper at the right moment
stand in the right place
it was all a dance that i felt from within
a dance that never quite ended
maybe it is a symphony...
one that we won't understand until we're married,
and suddenly we remember that fateful day...
sitting on a couch in the morning,
dusty sunlight pouring in through the tightly-slatted blinds.
your eyes met mine [those piercing grey eyes],
and it was as though you hooked me,
and like some perturbed fish, i writhed in the waters,
in this sea that we bathed in together.
misery loves its company, and i love yours.
I can't miss you anymore.
on mornings like this, i am reminded of your smile.
