whose at the helm?

All laid out before me, I re think my position
Not where I was, but what I hold now
I am clear on the locale of the fantastic
and beautiful romance that we ate ,drank and danced for nightly
Now you dance for me a sad dance of your own choreography
this dance is technical; lifeless
no feeling or spontaneity- all predictable
I watch as your instructor in wonder
how it has changed
Not what it was, but where its gone to now-
the splendid joy that took me without effort.
Now I sit ruling failed communication and deflecting bad choices
to avoid removing the last veil of dignity that covers the skeleton
of the god I once knelt to on his shrine.
My time ran on the clock love set for me. Now pity is the second hand
and apathy the hour hand.
this clock runs fast exhausting its power source quickly.
This power source has not the center of what once you had beaming without stall.
Now the clock I see is on a loose band and belongs to another keeper.
Yes I know we were on the same time all of the time.
Now you, powerless in your homemade tower
loveless and alone can look to me and wonder how you
gave this to me. I am so grateful for it.
The freedom, the power, the mirror I see you in rearview as I continue forward and looking at
the clock ticking away.