Kettle on the Stove

Here

where tenderness lived and shone
the sound of laughter and music

all of it gone

the slow erosion of unfulfilled hopes

I do not bemoan
our injured co dependent selves
or the bitterness that haunts us now

with things half packed
and the last hour ticking
the toxic monster
roams as a good disease should
quick to blame and throw the mud

in long silent stretches
where not a word is said

the kettle boils

and neither will move to turn it off.

GC©17