It was the way you opened the bedroom door,

just a quiet turn of the handle,

a gentle push,

not like Lara Croft

swinging into action

with an orchestra

beating out your moves.


More like a villain

in a silent movie

tip toeing about

making no sound.


Yes, all the information was there.

It told me tonight I would be cold again,

like a lone polar explorer.


No desert romance,

full of billowing tents

and steaming passion.


No heated embrace

on a train station platform,

or hand reaching out

begging to be held.


Just cold feet attached to a cold heart.





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