The Cruel Game

No apology
No attempt to reconcile
Only silent tears (of rage? of anger?)
A near-end

And so it stands
my cross to bear

*****
I remember when she was telling me how she told some guy who liked her that she couldn't be with him, because she would hurt the guy she really liked.

I remember falling, a little more.

*****
Two ways to fall. In and out.

Is this my lot? Always reminiscence.

I remember
when you would go out of your way, even at risk of losing your sacred siesta, or waking up early on a Saturday morning - unthinkable for you! - to accommodate me.

I remember when you warned me not to do things for you, lest you take me for granted

I remember how, watching you, asleep in the mornings, with the sunlight playing about your face, and tousling your morning hair, vowing silently to myself to do all I could, be all I could, for you.

I remember how you told me you would rather stay home with me, how you didn't enjoy the meaninglessness of clubbing; I remember releasing you to your friends because I could never want to cage someone whose independence and spirit I cherished.

*****
Perhaps the best things about you

Not that you were beautiful (to me), or gentle
Not your body, or those legs which are the stuff of men's fantasies
Not your wit or intelligence, which are apparent

But that you were considerate, and selfless, and kind

That you could look upon my kind - the whiter than white Pretenders - discern in them hypocrisy, selfishness, self-servitude, unfaithfulness, greed and deceit, and that you shied away from them

That you knew right from wrong, you had morals.
You were Good