Threshold

Sitting, or perhaps perching,
That's what I think it was now,
The metal bar around the back of the sofa
My solitude, in this half holy hour,
The actual padding left plain, untouched,
As I leant so fully against the support.

No it was not a soft sea, I did not sink in
To the foam which seemed to vibrate
Ever so slightly,
No it was not difficult for me, for me to
Walk away and then arrive, drown in
The faux leather warmth and comfort, my body cushioned
And my eyes caged, my back towards you.

Instead I stayed there for a while,
Knowing that it would be better if I didn't,
Throwing over my shoulder my only advantage, not
Showing I care, but
I wish that I was bolder, and
I wish that I was not bold at all.

And when for those brief moments you were not there,
Against the steel of the empty double chair,
My eyes became the taps from which you kept on taking
But I could not cry, I should be glad -
My words were the dying leaves you kept raking,
But I should not try, I could not be sad,
My heart the dormant disaster you keep waking,
But I will feel it, and I must understand;
This is the start of everything breaking.