To Each His Own

Let me, at the onset itself, say,
I hold no grudge at the games you play.
The games I'd started, yet had I known
How weariness spreads to mind and bone
I might not have led us this way;
Still here we are, now to each his own.

The silence, like an ivy grows
Between my thoughts; it softly flows
Around my words; and puts to rest
The painful conflicts in my chest;
Until I'm freed of both thorn and rose
And I lay untouched in its silent nest.

You search for what your whims may tell,
I understand, and wish you well.
I too have walked this road alone,
When words lay beyond our comfort zone.
For a while, I retreat into my shell,
And until then, to each his own.