What's Right?

Football’s on, the playoffs begin.
He sits on his chair and opens his tin.
It’s not the same without a brew or two, to chug in your mouth and loosen the screw.
Apprehensive about what is to come
The game replacing a life that is numb.
To the touch, to the feel
Now fake once real.
Nobody’s fault especially him
He did nothing wrong
He did nothing wrong.
Touchdown and cheer
Another beer?
Not this time as the others make it perfectly clear
That he is not one not really, not ever
His life is in shreds
To ignore that’s not clever.
But she sees him for what he once was and could be
Not what he is now, failed potentially.
White teeth, blonde hair, muscles and charm
Living inside him arm over arm.
Past pictures of smiles and days at the beach, laughing and joking and full of potential
Lie idle upon the mantle beside
His place that has now become prime residential.
Immovable objects both body and mind
Stuck in a cycle held fast
Try as she does, to remember his touch
Brings pain and pathos allied to what’s passed.
Elsewhere is hope, elsewhere is vision
The unknown charm of the unknown winks and nods and says how do you do?
To the woman who’s future is already blown.
That’s how it appears as she views the chair
The one holding him and his now greying hair
The one holding the man who promised so much
And failed to deliver on such.
A favour, however, that turned out to be
Delivered and received obliviously
Neither giver nor taker understanding it’s value
Until it’s lesson was stamped on her arm
And her eyes were opened to the true disposition
That dwelled in her heart and her soul and position
Before this never spoken or allowed to exist
How could it if it were merely the breeze in the mist?
While outside of herself she admitted
To never knowing her worth
Or claiming to have hold on the future
Not allied to others – them first.
Habits and doctrine, the old arm in arm
Blindly followed and presented with charm
Becomes a chore after years of practice
The shine wears thin.
Halftime beckons and still not a stir
The beer is warm, the immovable bear
Warm in its cave and snug as it rests
The questions ignored, not sitting the tests.
He did nothing wrong.
He did nothing wrong.
Not even the sound of the air rushing in
Cleaning the old world down
Disturbs the level of concentration
Required to acknowledge life’s frowns.
She smiles at her past, the future still thin
And out from the void she departs
Gaining weight by degrees as her true self stretches it’s limbs
And says good morning to the birds and the trees.
She did something right.

She did something right.

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