Less Breeds Less
A cellular division and weakening,
at each sever and subsequent split,
emotions diffused, dilution of feeling,
by fractions, bit by bit.
Every letting down word, every reason,
every tactical blind, each excuse,
are delicate chisels to fracture the contour,
chipping fragments of love cold and loose.
The anger and fear and resentment
are scorpions neutered of sting,
with a life span no longer than seconds,
hardly hurt or sustain anything.
Less breeds less of my caring to see her,
more breeds more of a tactical stall;
and I fear for the day of conclusion,
when she comes to mean nothing at all.
Can we slam on the brakes and make contact,
for we both have to realise
there is no sadder sound in the world to be found
than the rattle of friendship that dies.
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