Like a Piano

She plays a game,
Confusing him,
It’s all the same,
He never wins.

He accepts this,
No other choice,
He loves her kiss,
Sound of her voice.

He’s her doormat,
A back-up man,
‘What are you at?’
They say to Fran.

And he’s played like a piano.
Every key knotting him tighter.
And he has nowhere else to go.
He’s too weak to stand and fight her.

She enjoys it,
Dice dominance,
Breaks every bit,
Price prominence.

Syllables’ ease,
Control his thoughts,
Deathly disease,
Drives him to noughts.

No way out now,
Lonely in love,
Get out somehow,
It’s not enough.

And he’s played like a piano.
Every key knotting him tighter.
And he has nowhere else to go.
He’s too weak to stand and fight her.

(this was a reminiscence of an old romance, a realisation of how it was, letting go of what I thought it was).