i see raindrops on your piano
i see events on its keys
i am sure
this is what it means to be left –
waiting outside shops
waiting for someone to collect

she seems softer around me these days
sometimes it feels as if we are moving forwards
part of me wishes –
i could fall in love with her

part of me is resentful
good to be had
laying there on the bed
good enough to drip feed comfort

tired of the anger
and the, ‘when will i learn’
take it, throw it away
what is the use,
of these strange strange days

you have all –
taken a piece of me
i have played the bastard
and strummed your violins
i have been the flawed answer
when you did not know where to begin

you log fires have left me cold
your attachment to detachment
makes me feel old
your sunken ship
that you raise from the sea bed
starts to slip