A dark moon rose in your face the day you told me this wasn’t your place;
this wasn’t: your desire, your need, your aim
and with every letter your love was tamed
until all I had was a box of regretful lines, apologies and grace
until all our future became a hard ugly waste.
So you’ve left me now.
But not for that faraway place in another land.
You’ve left me right here in the palm of my hand.