ORDER.

I got a divorce,
And of course
I’m sure she got one too,
But as she didn’t show at court
To talk over our son’s custody
I can’t really be sure that she’s aware of it,
Living in the shell that’s snared her:

Pasted in her place
And wasting away in apathy;
Fractured in the foundations
Of her being;
Cored by the facts
Of a fallen apple
And unable to snap out of its fictions.

Leaving her front door locked,
The phone alone,
Her post closed
And circling between remorse
And blame whilst unable to jump the train
Of thought that originally
Brought her here.

Yes it’s funny how you marry together,
But separate apart,
Even on good terms,
Which we are when she’s sober or bold enough
To acknowledge her faults.
So yesterday I got my absolute decree
But did she?