by the words I can add up on my fingers,
hand to heart co-ordinating my pen to write
of your absent mind
whilst my mouth holds back lines,
sentences strung from the day’s reminders of you.
love has something to do with it
but now is neither the time nor the place
to submit to measured spirits,
I’ve always drunk till contented
and even one can be too much for me.
So I sip today slowly,
stall my letters, keep them short,
the score only matters to those playing the game
and I am no one’s to gain.
I race with the softest of movements,
choices so silent I could slip away.