I picked him a rose to remember me by.
A crimson bloom of passion promised .
The engine ticking over, keen to race into the dawn.
Furtive glances at the timepiece.
Tolerated.
Why should I feel tolerated?
A task to be endured like taking out the garbage.
Getting stains out of a sheet.
I know I joke a little but we had  fun him and me.
Every clown has a silver lining right?
A brief salute ******* to a brow.
And in a roaring cloud he's on his way.
Petals left, discarded like a post ****** *****.
Crushed into the gutter at my feet.
Pancakes for breakfast.
Coffee.
Silence.