Crossword Cheat.

You speak to me in cryptic words, knowing
That after you are gone and the warmth of your
Place in my bed chills, then I will ponder the meaning
Of your words and the way they add up
To empty
Spaces.

Teasing at the truth behind the lies, the antonyms
And the synonyms that we parry back and forth,
Like dualists on a chess board, or completing
The puzzle in Sunday newspapers
Coffee in
Bed.

Your words of love are hidden in the pregnant pause
Between the colon and the semi-colon lays a plethora
Of lies. I'm more concerned with adverbs,
Why, when, how will you
Come to
Me?

You deal in adjectives and metaphors, quantifying love
As a means to an end. I am "your own dear one,
Perhaps a doe-eyed faun pandering to your whims
Or a fawn indeed, a
Mistress has no
Rights.

You use possessive pronouns when you speak of me
"My love, my darling, where do I fit in this passive
State? Don't you know that love can become "vole?
Snuffling in the dark
For some
Sustenance?

I'm tired of the syntax of our love the dialogue is old
And stale. For each hint and clue a hundred words
Have filled the grid and still they make no
Sense at all
In snatched
Hours.

I live in the closed boxes of your mind, a dark
Space between the words that are running out
And soon the grid will be full of black
I am your punctuation
Mark, your full
Stop.

© Lisa Fuller April 2006.