Two Mornings After The Night Before

I didn’t drown
the cats,
or skin the dog;
shipping the roasted corpses
off to Vietnam – one way.
I didn’t leave
the meat-and-fish stocked fridge-door
open
for 3 weeks and 3 days
whilst thinking of
somebody else – another D.
I didn’t forget
to laugh dutifully every time
you opened your mouth; always
the one-woman audience
expected of me –
unless ‘fatigued’.
I didn’t elope
in the hopes of building
a socialist, Nietzschean, Marxist, Trotskyite, pacifist, existential, religious
state
with a dope-smoking fellow Comrade
Wild Child.

I just fell out of love.