The son of Janus has given me up...

He is dark, I know
But weren’t my remarks darker than that?
Maybe he is just searching for another vice
Maybe life has done him good, or bad
Maybe life has undone the him I knew
And he is reborn into a new skin and wit
Maybe he could not grasp my pussy
Maybe I was just too much for him to handle
(Or too little)
Maybe a fuck you has turned into a chilly silence
Maybe he loved me more than he thought he could
(or despised me more than he ever imagined)
In the meantime, the scrap is there
The dispossessed remains out of my possession
I sit here, wondering what I missed
The promised unseen
The unnecessary confirmation and delight
I wonder if he is eating properly
And make plans for the (damn you, Utopia) Second coming…