Lost Love
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She sits and reads, or chatters on the phone
voice lilting, dancing, chirping like a bird,
he sits in the same room with her, alone
and stares at her, his thoughts all go unheard.
He vowed to sacrifice, the day they wed,
have and to hold for better or for worse,
beguiling promises that he was fed
curdled like sour milk into a curse.
Silence between them like a washing line,
passion dried in the wind then put away,
to all around them everything is fine
soiled love can be hung out another day.
When nothing is the bond, then nothing ties
hollow relationships, false smiles and lies
(not for contest, it's a rough draft I finally got round to finishing)
Copyright © Viv Wigley | Year Posted 2018
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