Turning Away
Lying quietly, carefully,
My body rigid, not touching,
Willing her not to wake,
Fearing any response to my warmth,
Selfish solely for my own sake.
Dreading any physical contact,
Lest she rouse and realise
The coldness of my touch,
The acting, the pantomime,
For this girl I once wanted so much.
This ‘love’ thing could never last,
It just wasn’t meant to be.
I find that I simply don’t care
My affections have wandered,
Such a shallow, sordid affair.
Perhaps she feels the same way,
Or has picked up the signals?
Maybe she already knows,
Of my indifference?
Or somehow my guilt shows?
Not long now, till this is all over,
And I can leave this bed for the last time,
To make my way across town,
Where a young girl with blonde hair,
Waits for me to make her my own.
Copyright Andy Fawthrop 2014
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