Unforgiven

He had lost all thoughts of self respect and dignity,
She
was his lovers' best friend.
Twelve months of striving for
the unobtainable utopia,
A pointless expedition into his own
vulnerbility of committment.

His shivering
nakedness displayed, while sat at the bar,
Influenced by the
inevitable fluid of depression.
Delving deeper, into a one
way ticket of self pity,
He knew that there would be no happy
endings.

And their she was, the perfect immoral
person who could accomplish his goal,
Such a simple solution
to the darkness that had overwelmed him.
One small
imperfection in his life, that would lead to his further misery,

He would rather be a coward, than have to face the reality of
himself.

Another day, an absence from work, and a
pathetic life,
As he left her place for just one more bottle
of depression.
His guilt had festered, and he was drawn to
make a desperate phone call to his lover,
Why did her voice
seem so reassuring to a hopless cause?

He stumbled
home, with a kebab hidden snuggly within his apparel,
Begging
forgiveness to a God that he did not believe in.
He was
mugged that night, and faced death once more,
His windpipe
squeazed to the verge of snapping.

It was not the
violence, or the loss of his valuables, that had affected him,

He felt that it was the least that he deserved.

Just a small thing,
that nobody else would understand.
The throwing on the floor of his nephews' birthday card,
A
worthless item to the perpetrators,
But a valuable piece of
love, that he was unable to convey elsewhere.