OBSESSED

what is it, tell me, as you twist and squirm
on the couch next to me agitated, or something
so tell me-this is not you-as you get up; and i
try to move in closer, and you cross the room
to the fireplace, to stir the dying flame, poking it
and in an instant what should have come alive; died
you are still standing, half in shadow, clearly fussing
and momentarily, i forgot where i was,  in that time
you moved further away, i find it hard to take a breath
you did not notice;  i know whats coming- as i see it
in your eyes; betrayal- giving you away, i feel nothing
i stand up to freshen my drink, stare into the mirror
on the wall, i don't turn back, i walk out of the room
i am like a stone, cold, un-moving not giving you the
benefit to explain- i am no longer obsessed with love

by Michael Perry