#0057

There was a time when you were frightened of losing me,
Just as I am now afraid that the hand has slipped my grasp.
The sickness I feel that you might love another one day
Was rising in your belly; hot, green envy.
Yet you act like you do not understand at all
Why the uncertainty is maiming my life.
The forget-me-nots lie on your compost heap
As I decay in your memory; beauty fading
Until it appears that it was never there at all.
I was never something that you wanted.
Promises turned out to be built on clay,
Subsiding and forming huge cracks along stress points.

You seem conflicted and torn between impulses;
To throw me out into the rain without a coat
Or to wrap sturdy arms around me and console me.
The more your heart is touched, and nearly turned,
The more intent you seem on destroying this contagion
That once blighted your life and will do so again
If only the feverish love was allowed to take hold.
The passion of my adoration disgusts you.
You wash your hands of every word, deed and look.
How like Pilate you are, when you betray our love
For the honour of men and for stubborn pride.
I offer all I have and it is not enough.