The long game

The long game

she doesn’t care

that sleep has

been elusive for me

or that heart and head

are discombobulated

because of a man

she smiles

her early morning

sleepy half smile

plops herself

against my foot

as I sit on the loo

tail thumping


against the

cool tiles

she doesn’t care

that my head and heart

hurt because

I drank too much

wine last night

she smiles

fully awake now

ever more hopeful

and puts her head

on my knee

stares with those liquid

amber eyes

and asks are we?

I’m making coffee now

and she knows that

nothing will happen until

this ritual is complete

but afterwards

there is a chance

so she lies down

down with

a sigh and waits

prepared to play the long game

she doesn’t care

that all I want to do

is crawl back

into bed

think of him

and slip into

risky fantasies

but future and past

are not how

she goes

she is all now

and all she wants to do

is take me there

again her head

is gently but

firmly on my knee

and she whispers

I think I can

hear the ocean

can you?

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