I’ve heard alcohol makes writing this kind of thing easier
so I’m drinking the whisky you gave me last Christmas
but I still don’t know what I should say.
It’s too late to wine and dine, flash the cash,
or apologise with some other rhyming cliché
when you’re sharing meals and a mortgage.
But if you stay, I’ll do what you asked:
less complacency, more compromise.
I’m sorry I didn’t listen,
that I dismissed your outrage as hormones,
and assumed we only disagreed
because you didn’t understand.
Being aloof and assertive served me well
with strangers under strobe lights,
but you’re a companion, not a night-club conquest.
So I’ll hold your hand while you say your grace,
and clear a space for you in the study.
I’m not suggesting we start doing everything together
or renew our vows barefooted on a beach,
none of that ‘I don’t know where I end
and where you begin’ nonsense:
I end here, and you start there.
If you stay, we can rebuild that boundary,
redefine our differences and mark where we meet.
I won’t overstep or undermine.
Please don’t leave, I’ll be better this time.