The party ended long ago,
but ache and pain sway to and fro.
Embraced in tender misery
could it have been done differently?
These days an ash tray overflows;
the romance ended long ago.
Awoken in the aftermath,
by glaring sun snuck through cracked slats.
Sweeping bottles from sticky floors,
wishing he’d said something more.
The daydream ended long ago
turned nightmare cursed to lay unknown.
Routine obscures silent remorse,
conniving nature takes her course.
Auburn leaves give way to snow, but
the future ended long ago.