“I feel like I’ve lost my heart and my right arm,”
she moaned about losing you.
Well, that’s what happens
if you wear your heart on your sleeve.
“Come on,” I said,
“Put your coat on; let’s get out of here for a while.”
Dressing her was so, so...
I can’t think how to put it.
“He doesn’t care does he?
“How can he ever have cared?”
It’d be so tempting to agree,
to slip into the lead here, but I can’t.
“Where are we going?”
The break in her whimper was surprising.
“Wherever the car takes us.”
The healing properties of getting lost
made her smile.
“That’s it,” I encouraged,
“you sure you haven’t been touching up your make up?
“This breakdown looks a bit Hollywood to me.”
She told me off for complimenting her,
but I could tell it had warmed her
to hear a positive review.
So whilst she returned to reflecting on you, I
shuffled her through the winter afternoon
like an elderly mother,
and all I could think was
the lighthouse saves you from the dark,
but who saves the lighthouse?