The Slamming Door
I tried to hold onto you but could not—
You slipped through my fingers as water will
When run through a sieve. And how like the plot
Of some dime-store pulp it all seems now -- shrill
Yet so furtive. I tried to be humble,
To seem nonchalant; but came off shallow,
Unfocused, both surprised when you’d grumble
And childishly petulant and callow,
I’m embarrassed to confess. Now you’ve left:
No chance now of reconciliation;
No excuses now, howsoever deft,
No third party’s neat adjudication
Can heal the rift between us anymore.
Nothing tastes so bitter as one’s own words,
Or punctuates quite like the slamming door,
No matter how tenaciously one girds
Oneself to bear the shock. Regret may well
Be futile, but it’s hard indeed to take--
Like some malignant fairy’s baleful spell
Which no consoling words can ever break.
NB: The word "not" in the first line is meant to be stressed.
|