You said that words were pointless, and we spoke
For hours about how pointlessness became
The rough relief on which we shed our shame,
Desperate to savour every stroke.
This wasn’t love, you said, but you were wrong:
The scars are seals of service that betray
The truth behind the pointless things I say
As we go at it madly all night long.
He loves you now, your children call him dad,
And I play distant uncle for their sake,
Teasing you with smiles until you break
As I remind you what you could have had.
We never did stop talking and you said
We never would until we both were dead. 
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