At this point she remains a specter
Nearly unnoticed, yet vital as the pole to a tethered ball
At this point I remain oblong
Punched from behind, yet to reaffirm my true form
I orbit her essence, chasing the wire that holds me
Not to have it, but to outrun it
Racing him to her, in a hapless homage
To every failed romance before
In a binding performance
Painfully predictable twists and turns
Leading me to her in a victorious procession
Slaps to my face and blows to my head
Strangely entertaining
I rest atop her, fully requited now
Forced there by some unknown hand
I’m committed, torsion of the wire pulsing
Ignore it now for this one day
Until we play again