so that’s it then
she’ll go her way
and I’ll go mine
her coffee still warm
as I slump
with my head in my hands
maybe she is right
maybe we’re not right for each other
but these last few endless minutes
I yearn for what is good
she was the bow
to this old violin
I wonder what music I will make
if I pluck my own strings
I light a smoke for the road
and dare not touch her cup
I reach my bed and realise
deep deep down
it is over