“Please don’t love me, Cazz,

This is just another fling.

That ex girlfriend – you know who,

Will always come first for me.”

Cazz tried to win my heart.

 

We had days of fun.

Romping nights of lusting. All

Overshadowed by

The former lover lurking,

Behind veils of memory.

 

Cazz wanted to ask

If my, “Darling, I love you,”

Whispers were for her

Or meant for the other one.

There was nothing I could say.

 

I had no answers

For her insecurity,

No reassurance

No unguent, no platitude,

Nothing but poignant silence.

 

Through winter evenings

We stared at embers glowing

In our Queenie stove.

Eating buttered toast. Drinking

Her own recipe mulled wine.

 

Each fond gesture met

An off-hand response, “Thanks, Darl.”

We clinked our glasses

Playing games of ‘make-believe’.

She and I were both victims, 

 

Clinging together.

Lost souls. Second-best - at best.

Damaged goods. Flotsam.

Detritus washing over from

Ships colliding in the night.

 

Her heart was broken

When I said, “It’s done. No more.”

I stare at embers

Now, alone, and wondering.

Wondering and wondering.