You moved on and I stayed. You moved on to better lives, better partners, more meaningful relationships and I stayed. I stayed here, where I always was, the clown, the entertainer, the joke that I am, waiting to cheer up others, but everyone moved on. I am still here, where I always stood, alone, battered, and broken. I miss your kindness, your love, your care. I miss the mornings with you, the emotional spark that we had, the moments of joy and understanding. I miss calling you all up, getting a message from you, getting love letters and everyday love-poems, the ones we play that only when we look back do we realise what an intricate poem of love it was. I miss those rhythms, those rhymes. I miss the bond we had, the mornings we got up late or rushed to work, the bewildering sex we had, seeing my postcard on your walls, seeing my mark in your lives. It’s all gone now. All of it, the postcards, the small marks. You moved on, and I stayed. I can’t move, I don’t want to move. I’m tired and battered and I’ve had enough. I’m lonely, after all these years of love and care, I’m alone again.