There is a particular beauty to the past eight months
The gradual slip, the casual fall
Both parties pretending to have not heard anything at all
Smiles and lies, truths obscured or non-existent
Nights spent in the throws of utter panic
Segregated and inorganic
Whilst one party played at family
The other pondered insanity

Funny or tragic
It's not for anyone to decide
Though I need not imagine the resentment you could barely hide
Regardless of such, it is hard not to laugh
A puppet dancing open a personal gap
Letting go, only to jump in

Family & friends, mostly aghast
Surprised at this sudden turn of events
Boundless and intrinsically sufficient
One shouted "Let go!" and the other whispered, "How much?"

Such is the beauty
Something, honest and brutal
Beating the soul into something else entirely
For better or worse
Never needing to pretend or rehearse
With a car full of gas and two sets of keys
Passport all I need
To the future
All acted out