Jealousy takes many forms some of which turn more to
depression than rage and it is this depression that Nobody addresses.
Nobody
There is no worry like the
worry I feel
watching his arms settle around
you,
and he holds you to him tightly
as if
trying to mesh woman into man
in
an ecstasy of being that makes
a mockery
of my feelings as if you’re
leaving.
Going once round the dance
floor with
your eyes closed, happy with
another man
and that spears me, a hundred
yards out and it
impales me on the ruin of our
love where
the black crows of nights of
missing you
perch around the wall in
droves, cawing
mournfully before a rising sun
that I wish
never more to see.
This is the charity of despair
that weighs me
down and wraps me round in old
films like Casablanca
and Love Story and I need you
now playing on
the radio but who cares? I care
and I hope
nobody knows.
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