A Poorer Apology

Subtly the season is inspiring these sudden swings in salutations,
that once evoked affinity but now speaks of detachment;
ratchet in the works that once warbled aspirations,
instead proclaims at perceived deviations and dastardly dashes natural nearness for fears:

Broached issues poached in placating an ego,
hurt before the breach that taught how terribly tender intimations can wreck havoc on a heart,
and how hollowness can herald heartache hindering healing.

Songs sung spurt sparsely in the recollections of a friend,
if one didn’t destroy that in defense of a painful pulse,
recalling back when the winter’s grey seemed to dissipate in the stark light that hung at the horizon,
barely rising between the sighs in the solitude,
banter that bared souls and shoulders and quenched the smoldering silence when eyes met and it was all they needed to tell each other everything.

Once triggered, the effects lingered and lashing out was the only way that the other seemed to get noticed,
too easily put to periphery, ignored, not even given a word at a meeting,
intimate only in purchases, which spoke less of adoration and more of responsibility,
who harkened to improvements that played without perceived affection as cold judgments, breeding resent –
knowing it was because she cared but burdened more like badgering –
narrowly letting love linger but bothered by the wall she built to protect them.

This is piss poor payment, a poorer apology
that tried to rectify what coincided with the eventual astrology,
when stars shone less like lights in the sky
and instead watched silently as a love affair died.

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