There exist
stares, glances
which break silences
or spoil mornings
when she seeks a soft word, a loving word
at the foot of the bed
where only used slippers should lie adrift,
out of choice.
She said she dreamt a hope and hoped a dream
where I could be her protector.
I grimaced a smile while shamefully wishing
her to fade somewhere beneath the pillow or the carpet.
I can’t even snore in peace anymore!
She is always on the lookout
for a slip up, but
I was a faux pas from the first day we met
She mistook my drunken cheerfulness for a pleasant personality
She even thought me a sweet thing or maybe a sure thing
These days, she just pokes, pinches me at the crack of dawn
hoping to catch and squeeze my vulnerable self before the sourness kicks in.
In my long short life I’ve never been big on refunds or exchanges
once something is in my hands,
no matter how chipped, dysfunctional or useless,
I still keep it.
But that painful light
so heavy under her eyes
she calls it love; and I want it away.
I want to bring her back to that street, to that time
where her smile was full and her eyes less needy and sad
I could bathe in chocolate and strawberry creme
but I would never be the satiating treat she craves;
all I can do is give her up.