Slipping

I know she is slipping away.
The pauses are longer, 

the messages shorter.
I can feel the cooling of her heart in the May breeze that brushes my face. 

I can see the waning of her desire in the shrinking moon. 

I can sense the lack of her attention in my empty dreams.
I will never be a victim.
Undercover of darkness I build a boat from my words.
At dawn launches it upon the still and waiting, inky waters.
I do not look back.