No-one wants to know
You when you're mad;
Sad but true,
A cliché,
Like me and
You were sad
To see me go
When I was sane,
Pained to wash even
One small memory
Down the drain
Like a toenail
Clipping
Or the dripping
That I'd left in
A mug by the
Door for
Weeks;
And you loved
That little piece of
Me that was
Disgusting,
Trusted my idiosyncrasies,
The seasons of my mood,
Brooding silences,
Mournful glances
Entranced you;
God knows why.
And we would speak
For fifteen minutes on the
Phone at lunch time,
Pine for home time
And each other,
Mimicking the
Softened tones of lovers;
And you were
Glad to see my
Face each night, though
It was pasty and gave me,
For one, a fright each
Morning at the mirror.
Then someone pushed
The dimmer switch
In my head
And you did not
Want to know
A mad man
And his pain;
You washed affection
Down the drain,
Dragged the chain
Across and smashed
The thin glass.
I do not blame you.
I would have done the same.
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