There’s romance in rhythm
this rhythm
this waiting
this meter
this aching
this watching
this breaking.
There’s romance in action
in tossing
and turning
in putting on coffee
forgetting
and burning
a hole in my heartstrings,
a permanent painting
there’s romance in solace
in quietly sating
myself for a second—
reality’s grating
all fish hooks and
hoodwinks and otherwise baiting
your words against mine
for honor, grade pending
this battle between us,
with no chance of mending
the bridges we burned here,
to your heart I’m sending
a solemn goodbye
for there’s romance in ending.