“And What About Companionship?”
“And what about companionship?” she said,
“Do you really care to die alone?” she added
To the thought that I’d misled
Her, the presiding illusion on delusions to be fed.
What had made the whole strophe sadder
Was the thought that she’d be madder
Two rungs up on the gilded ladder
With the truth than if I payed out the thread and bled
A lie with softened smiles alive with some sweet
Calcified emotion in the two of us
With no more hope and substance on the antistrophe than the reams
Of poetry I’d written to that dear lady, darkly, or the sound of baby feet
That seemed to be the clandestine plan reducing former plans to dust
Or love I’d may have wrought when both betrayed my trust.
…charcoal drawing at bottom by Amber Senna…