I thought.

I thought I heard you say you loved me, when I put the bins out in the morning.
Before I climbed into the car and went to work.
I thought I felt the warmth that we both shared.
When I buttoned up the cuffs of my crisply ironed shirt.
The collar stiff, itchy, unforgiving.

“Don’t forget to recycle.” You shouted from a window up above, and I wondered, if you meant the shirt, the bins or our love.
I thought I felt some passion, when you suggested we should have an early night.
It dissipates and dies when you turn away from me and dim the bedside light.
I thought I felt my heartbeat, skip and dance whenever you came near.
We live in quiet conflict.
Surrender to the fear.
Instead, it was the ticking of a clock as it echoed down the hallway, its empty chimes.
When did you stop loving me?
Tell me please what crimes did I commit against you?
I thought that I might leave you.
I thought that I might stay.
Once we were together,
Together battles won.
Together, battles fought.
That was many years ago
That was what I used to think.
That was what I thought.