Is it fair?

That you can leave as you please and slide back into my life with relative ease,
When even a relative would return on their knees and profusely plead,
I think you are the Chief Temptress indeed; I am consumed by greed in your presence and cannot be freed,
You left without a word and with that single deed decreed that I should bleed,
Yet upon your inevitably selfish retreat back to me I know you intend only to entreat, charm, harm then flee, characteristic you — flea

Is it fair that I am so helpless in the limelight cast by your face?
I’m confused and my escape I can never time right; perpetually I lose the race,
There is no dime I might use to bribe my way out of this disgrace,
I am but a mime whose might with words is effaced in this great debate

Is it fair that I hate to love you and know not if vice versa holds,
I anticipate a dove from your bosom but see only hawks and talons when your arms unfold,
You are an ingrate to have all this commitment and show no gratitude in tow,
But I guess I should regret not having known of your cruelty untold,
It’s not fair that I lay prostrate as you have your cake and eat it too, but alas!
so the story goes…


I am but a blot in the notebook into which you jot,
A tall order in the abyss from which you crept,
You see not my presence but my usefulness: my need to be in your debt,
And you plunder my coffers as you see your own self-interest met,


But from this day forth I hope against hope that I cease to see myself as yours in perpetuity,
Giving myself the gratuity you wouldn’t see fit for tasks complete:
And taking your leave with this, my final heave to be

Evans Mbora Campbell
Seeker of Reprieve

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