I should leave but I know I'll stay

Arguments
play out an old refrain,
we make up
so you can leave again.
Taxi into town
a burned out clown,
you tumble
till the neon shuts you down.

Taking turns
to spin you on your stool,
playthings
pass the parcel as you drool,
Buttoned blouse
gets fumbled out of shape,
grace
is sipped away without a trace.

Restless hands
beat symptoms on my chair,
pretending
to myself that you still care.
I can only
walk the worn out floor.
A dog
that waits behind a nightclub door.

Morning milk
clinks early in the street,
guilt
has ploughed a furrow for your feet.
A quite door
creeps soft with no surprise,
another night
of chewed and swallowed pride.