Top of my game,
Top of my aim,
Top of my speed —
You crave that.
Down on my game,
Down on me,
You shun that.

Silence. Echoes.
I love them.
They remind me
Of loneliness.

Dark clouds — those days —
Gift me
A clearer view
Of my circle.

Groveling through snow,
Through fog,
I understand
Why most company
Means nothing.

If I once gave
A Cheshire smile,
Played the jester —
I can't now.
Not until I’m fixed.

So when I get the urge
To saunter away —
Do you blame me?

Should you fill my shoes,
Or allow me
To make the decision
For us — alone?
Should you be my light
When it's pretty sketchy,
Or wait —
Hoping I fix myself?

Because maybe,
Just maybe —
To saunter past you
Is the best
I can do.