a one hundred and fifth poem...'footsie'

He wanted to

Cry, but could not.

There was

Lingering pain,
Pain he could 

Sense that never

Quite came.

So he kicked his

Dog to death

Instead.

Wrote her a postcard,

Sweet as
Banana bread,

Said: ‘please, Lily,

Take me back’;

Invited her to

Play footsie,

Like they had once

Upon a time -

Their first date.