Love. Like a thwarted lover you scream throwing pots and pans. There is no love lost here. But once there was.
Love. Oh, where are you my darling? Hidden beneath. Beneath the pain. Beneath the central fatigue that is this body’s journey. Bereft of your former glory.
Love. I will fight for you and will succour on your fruit like a fool. Return to me like a lovers spat. Wake me up when you return or let me snack on senility without you.
D GRANT 2022