I stared out the window in a daze
there is no love left; I said
'only the putting up with another,
and the fear of leaving one in the cold.
That's no love. That's pity.'

I heard him chuckle behind me
he never did believe a word I said
'Don't tell me how I feel,' he hissed
and his words were lovelessly bitter,
'you have no idea what I feel'

I turned to look at him and still saw the window
'you've mistaken fear for love' I said.
'you don't want to hurt me, so you call it love.
you don't want to lose me and you call that love.'
I shivered, 'I call it fear. Everything is fear.'

I turned again to the window and stared
he was pouring coffee behind me,
and I could hear it gurgle like a drowning child
I wanted to leave - to walk out and never come back
I was tired of the façade and sick of the game

He read my mind as he always had
but eve that is not love - that's familiarity
'Go!' he boomed, and sipped his coffee
I knew  would not go - I would stay as always
fear of hurting, and fear of leaving is what kept me here

Romantic love is the distraction in a magic trick
it is the tapping of the cards
while the dealer sneaks the ace
not all illusions can be maintained
for fear the viewer will spot the con

I told him this and he laughed
'I hate it when you're so dramatic.' he mumbled
which was a stupid thing for him to say
since that was what he'd said he loved about me
the completion of the illusion is its end

'What a real neat trick that was' I said to him
and walked out the door

Copyright: Renee Seymour, The Shades Between, 2024