He left her to her dreamworld and the
sleep she treasured, slipped away in
a dawn of serenity, at ease with his need
to write words that multiplied during
a soft night of infinite tenderness,
imbued with measureless love for the
sweet girl who slept.
We have had these reunions of our
passion before she argued, and I am
sure you meant every word you said.
Then you leave me for dead – a victim
of the other being who cares less and
drives at breakneck speed through
the highways of my heart.
Yes, he agreed sadly, but he will not
win this battle. We concede we love you
equally, have decreed we will not
fight for the right to possess; we will
gift you our heart instead – take it,
and the what and wherefore you use
of it will arbitrate our fate.
© I.D. Carswell 2007
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