Our love is losing its gripping,
like acrobats whose hands are slipping.
We pay too little attention
to each other’s intention.
We ignore the shading
and are too quickly abrading.

What started this downward turn?
Was it a careless spurn?
Was it an angry moment
that began the foment?

What started with loving laughter,
even through the mornings after,
has become at times judgmental,
or what’s worse, inconsequential.

I feel I’m spinning into a cosmic shift,
tumbling freefall from your world, adrift.
Are you pulling from me or am I letting go?
All I know is that it hurts me so.