Coming home

 She leaves again 

Closes the door but not before 

 flashing that sweet smile 

understanding in its nature 

But it understands 

nothing  

 

‘You'll find a job’ 

She says each evening she returns 

Cooks and chats for what is deemed 

Enough 

Then is off again  

To her work, to her livelihood 

 

And each time 

I'm left  

stood 

 

In more moments than I choose 

I revert back 

And question whether coming home so soon 

Was really the right decision. 

 

For her  

yes  

to see her  

Yes 

to hold her 

Yes 

to feel her heart next to mine 

Yes.  

 

For me...  

Maybe she doesn't realise 

What happens when she closes that door 

That purpose in any sense is lacking 

That grim depictions of the future 

Lay lurking 

That all my mistakes in that place 

Follow and taunt 

And life without purpose is 

an impossibility 

For me. 

 

It's been two months of watching that door close 

Two months of living off her coat tails 

 

I am as lonely here as I ever was out there. 

Threadbare  

And broke 

 

At least there I had purpose 

 

Here 

I am a mere side note 

 

But I cannot say these things 

Without seeming 

Like I am not proud 

Of what she has become 

Of what she's done 

On how far she's come 

Since I last closed the door. 

 

As if I am not supporting her 

In her new adventure 

 

I cannot say these things 

Without upsetting the 

Precarious 

 

Despairingly I have 

Once or twice 

And unfortunately  

Her eyes glaze over 

And a comparison between 

Herself and my place of former residence 

Plays like a 1930's black and white 

Cinematic 

 

But 

There is no comparison 

I want to tell her 

Being with her is magic 

Is illumination 

Is revelatory 

 

Coming home should have been easy 

 

But she closes the door 

With a sweet smile  

Each morning  

And I am left with myself 

Again 

 

With no purpose 

With no money 

With no life 

With no end.