Fool

Well, that’s it then.
You’re probably dead
After,  like the last supper,
You devoured me.

Should i call, if you don’t?
SENSE says no never,
Says i should do something constructive
And get washed or dressed.

I hope you are dead
For then your absence is enforced
Not a preference, a heartsore
Not rejection,  a loss

I would go to your funeral
Tears would glisten on my cheeks
And i’d be a “tragic picture”,
Beautiful, resigned

You left me your silence
Wrapped in  green ribbons
Of false hope, denial
Naivety
Fool.