the last lover leaves
before dawn
before the necessity of conversation
stale coffee reheated
brings the numbing thought that this was your last chance
old man
there's nothing left
no slivers of heart to give away
no whispers in the dark that clever lovers say
you can no longer dance with brittle bones
your game has left you
and they were all games
were they not?
until the last sliver

now walk the shoreline as you always do
when they leave
and ponder the idea of love