In Spite of It All

by David Christopher Johnston

Deafened by heavy breathing

I’m staring at the ceiling

Waiting for you to fall asleep

 

There can’t be a decent reason

Why I’m only happy when you’re screaming

This isn’t how it’s meant to be, surely?

 

I’ll wait until the lights go out

So I can sneak away

Back to the smiles and the good times of yesterday

 

It’s been so long since you and me felt right

That wrong just seems the way

But it’s too easy

To find reasons not to stay

 

Well, I always said I’d fight for love

But I’m going to let you leave tonight

And I know we said we’d fight for us

But I can’t let you bleed me dry

 

Please give me one good reason

Because then you swear you’re leaving

You must be running out of cause

 

And when men give you attention

I hope that you’ll leave with them

Just so I can make out this was all your fault

 

Tell me the day this went astray

I’ll travel back and make it change

If just to bring the smile back to your face

 

And it’s so sad I can’t remember how it felt to feel in love

Through all this hate

We say goodnight and call it a day

 

There’s no effect without good cause

As we sit here waiting for the other to stall and fall

 

We wait for brighter days

While both aware that things are never going to change

Why cry? We can’t deny

It’s fallen apart and we didn’t even try

We kept the fun inside and left

I wish this would turn out right

I guess I’m in no doubt we had some real good times

But forgotten all is not enough

In spite of it all I remember love

It’s such a shame it’s been replaced by this stale blood…

 

~

 

Copyright © 2023 David Christopher Johnston.

David Christopher Johnston hereby asserts and gives notice of his right under s.77 and s.78 of the Copyright, Designs & Patents Act 1988 to be identified as the author of this work of fiction. All moral rights are asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this work of fiction may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the author. This poem is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

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