And So, Lizzie

“Don’t, say you love me,

this is just a passing fling.

No use pretending

we are in some fairytale,

we’re not, and never will be.”


We had days of fun.

Nights of lusty romping, all

overshadowed by

a former lover rooted

firmly in my memory.


Liz wanted to ask

if my, “Darling, I love you,”

sighs were meant for her

or maybe the other one.

There was nothing I could say.


I had no answers

for her insecurity,

no reassurance

no unguent, no platitude,

nothing but guilty silence.


Long winter evenings

we gazed at embers glowing

in my Queenie stove.

Eating buttered toast. Drinking

Liz’s recipe mulled wine.


Each fond gesture met

a half-hearted, “Thanks, Darl.”

We clinked glasses and

Played our game of ‘love-believe’.

Liz and I were both victims,


Clinging together.

Lost souls. Second-best, at best.

Damaged goods. Flotsam.

Debris washed overboard from

ships colliding in the night.


She was heart broken

when I said, “It’s done. No more.”

I gaze at embers

alone, sighing, wondering.

Wondering and wondering.


© coolhermit 2023
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A sad tale indeed but the heart is fickle and love cannot be made to order. Great write.


Very sad such a difficult relationship for you both to accept, but there was shared companionship and love, of a sort, between you and that was a good thing for as long as it was destined to last. Sue.


I like ‘love-believe’. Clever.


All been there (well, at least I have) – life, as it always is – resonates with me, anyway.


Yeah, well, that’s life, innit Herm? We’ve all done stuff like that (sometimes with no consolations).


Personally, I’m coal-black, Cool, bit couldn’t care less 🙂


…Indulge in a Temazepam…


I’m continuing to admire the ‘new’ coolhermit style. 🙂

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