ad infinitum

The “love of my life” has left, and I see

He was a misfit, just the same as me.

My question, though, is this: why did I hold

That mask on for so long?

I’d like to point and blame and scream and shout,

And kick my parents’ teeth out of their heads:

How dare you make a child and then berate

Her for the foolish things you did to one

Another? She can no more wear your sins

Than you can move beyond your old mistakes.

Drawn into the matrix of a therapeutic

Process, can I absent myself from love’s

Hard-bargain compromises, minimising

Self until I only half remain?

Perhaps I can; at least, in that degree.

June 2022