While The Others Play

Sinking a little
the swirl just below my knees
threatens to rise
and engulf me
in these whirlpools
of misery and regret

I am afraid to be lonely
another evening
left to my own devices
to peruse imagined Saturday evenings
couples crossing lines
deviating to decadence
sophisticated affairs
bodies enriched and satiated
in a buffet of human flavours

People run so far from the sadness
a stigma that screams desperation
and if I could only play well with others
and inject these fantasies of the flesh
this rising could subside

But my only choice will be to touch myself
revisiting the episodes of the past
looping into one another
and stopping mid-way through
no longer enticed by what has happened.

It's what hasn't, that keeps stoking
these aches that need to be addressed.