Denouement

I could only cry

like a dripping tap

at first, an occasional drop

would splash down one cheek

noisily, but then it would stop

for weeks at a time. Now I leak 

like dew that evaporates to steam

under the morning sun. 

Did you weep?

I wept only for myself.

I shed nothing for him,

my eyes flinch at the idea - 

the tears inch back up my face,

retracted. 

No lamentation, no wailing,

no lies, no black dress of formalise 

and normalise and he wasn’t that bad.

No painting on of sad. What a loss.

Raise a glass. To my arse. Thank you

for coming and pleased at the turn out.

None of that for me.

My words do not recoil, reeling.

I am unknotted with this ending, 

released.

Image from pixabay.