Philosophical

the last lover leaves 
before dawn 
before the necessity of conversation 
stale coffee reheated 
brings the numbing thought that this was your last chance 
old man 
there's nothing left 
no slivers of heart to give way 
no whispers in the dark that clever lovers say 
you can no longer dance with brittle bones 
your game has left you 
and they were all games 
were they not? 
until the last sliver 
 
now walk the shoreline as you always do 
when they leave 
and ponder the idea of love