Dead Lines

They’re out for coffee, but she’s all alone,
because he’s focussed on his phone.
Ignoring her, lost to another;
She’s really wondering why she bothers.
She’s bought him dinner, which she’ll cook
and he’s sure to take another look
while she’s slavin’ in the kitchen
And through all this, she ain’t a-bitchin’.
It can only hurt her if she cares
and the feelings she once had aren’t there.
Perhaps she’s become desensitised
to him looking into another’s eyes.
She’s truly grown, used to the words
she once thought of as her worst curse.
None of that really matters at last;
she’s making tracks along a new path.
She’s got a focus all her own –
no longer will she feel alone.

In fact, the opposite might be true.
When work is done, and he is, too,
he may just find that in the evening
when once they shared time, interweaved in
comfortable silence, or music playin’,
she’s no longer there, finding her way in
new horizons, finding her feet –
people to do and things to meet.
The dead lines lie upon the page
as she opens the door to a new age.