Just one chair on this table meant for two

You once stared into my eyes like you now stare into your phone,
We would love, share and comment; but now you can do that alone.
I remember waiting hours for a corner table and now anything will do,
It seems like there’s just one chair on this table meant for two.

Our arch nemesis – the waiter, was always seen as an interruption,
Today he waltzes by and serves us a welcome distraction.
When did your Instagram replace me with pictures of gyrating food?
How long have I been sitting here on this table meant for two?

You once called me your mystery novel but I feel more like this menu card,
Exciting me with slight indulgence – only to be quickly discard.
So, here we wait in a sit down restaurant for our fast food meal to cook,
How we wish there was just one chair on this table meant for two.

As our cutlery speak, we silently wait for this tryst to be over,
Out comes the cheque, and I read the price of being alone and sober.
My love is like this candle light, at some point it will be through,
Stains of neglected wax will grace this table – that was once meant for two.

When you’re not here

A dusty front camera, so bored – it’s sick,

It has no use, no purpose – for my eyes can click.

I scroll through my mind’s eye and admire every picture,

You probably miss the best of me when you’re not here.

The Master pets me for he knows I’ve been a good boy,

I stare up at Him expectantly as he dangles a new toy.

He asks me to chase and play but I don’t even go near,

I can live without temptation when you’re not here.

I walk down the red carpet and revise the speech in my head,

My decisions warrant an award; with praise I should be fed.

I won’t survive long if this audience fills me with regret and fear,

Alone in this burning spotlight I stand – when you’re not here.

A Poet in the dark

Imagine every morning without a sunrise,

Every delicacy without salt.

Imagine every evening without a sunset,

Every mistake being your fault.

You would think there’s something worse but this one leaves a mark,

There’s nothing worse when you lose your spark and end up a poet in the dark.

Imagine a week without a weekend,

Every day being just the same.

Imagine a party with no one there, and

Everyone’s glad you came.

You would think there’s something worse but this one leaves a mark,

There’s nothing worse when you lose your spark and end up a poet in the dark.

 

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