A Singular Stance

I am alive -
Here I thrive
Basted by the evening light
Slanting beyond my sight
Across the back of the world,
All my hopes unfurled
With it.  In like intent
This clear light splashes all I meant
To say: it was a fool's gold -
You too young; me too old.

I am ankle-chained
To the remaining undertow,
Sucked down by the unexplained
Expression on your face, held too low,
Too restrained
And I have found, and faced, you my foe.

You always were
Always there
But always absent.  Love's plight
Washed over your head, tightened
Our bed until you made it
Cold and clinically unfit
For purpose: a sick
Reminder of the slick
Way you greased yourself out
Of my life.  With spite

You haunt my thought
In sound and colour.
Your stance insinuates to rot
Faith in my own fervour.
I am not
Yours now.  I am my own endeavour.
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