Another month is over. How I long
to take you in my arms and keep you there,
and not before time either: lost among
the daily drudgery, and wear and tear
of dull, thin solitude and tension's flare,
neglected feelings, down upon the floor
grow old and grimy through a lack of care,
abandoned, lost, not wanted any more...
We left them there and simply locked the door
and I pretended that I never bothered
to even try and go back to restore
the passions and emotions that lie smothered -
Another month is over. Can't we pry
those dumb defences open? Won't you try?