You ceased loving me early on, and I,
Who knew this, still maintained the charade
Of a man in love, while you tried to try
To find some solace in the sad parade
Of cheerless days we shared because your cell
Was a far less happy place than my arms
And being lonely lost, as I could tell
Would have been by far the more grievous harm
To your psyche, which, held in high esteem
By me, though quietly, playing the one
Unhurt by knowing he was not your dream
Spoke his lines so well you felt less alone
Which was my notion all along so you
Could pretend as much that you loved me too

12/26/2009