A LAST MEMOIR
by Stuart E Ayling
Funny
how this is where we choose
After so many nights
Laughing arguing sleeping sighing
How weird
We talked out the days true to this age
When you were here or there Separated by a clichˇ a moat of tears
Now the bridge is drawn up the doors are firmly closed
Silently locked indisposed
My
memories lay intact
As your battlements and ramparts slowly go up
But regret I shall not
Retreat
you say
I waved my flag
You bastard
You're mad
Belittle yourself to me
Make me believe you were never truly worthy
I
shout out again
Our memories are not bad
I will be happy for them
I shall be glad
Are you now bitter indifferent or sad?
I'll
keep them safe
They will remain In drawers on walls
Our musical memoirs Those little stuffed toys
Your hair blowing through my halls
I'll keep them all I shall sit and hope wait and see
Holding each others secrets
Missing like me this friendship this tragic comedy
A
choice was made
How can it be you now feel betrayed?
My protection is now in question
There was no malicious intention
I
couldnÕt be quite what u wanted me to be
I tried so hard, re-read the script
I wanted you to smile to laugh at each quip
But perhaps by the 3rd act we should have agreed
To pull down the curtain
But act 4 opened and closed a little early
I just wish the princess to be happy
So
now we write in metaphor
Best not use semaphore
Can't be seen to make ourselves too clear
Chinese whispered stories
Twisted up phone cords
A neverland prince
Found guility by rumour
Reduced in rank
In standing
Demoted private despair
We clever un-pair
A
literary exchange
With poetic nonsense and textual device
All hidden in fairytale
Victimless vice
Overdosed on alliterations superlative no more
Apostrophes apathetically apologise
The dictionary applauds
Are
we actually crossing swords?
Choose your weapon choose your words
You paragraph I lunge in rhythm
A melodramatic drama has just been written
Where accidental injuries
Hurt all the same
Where the writer forgot to finish
Bored with character plot and play
Nothing left
Nothing left to say