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My clock’s beating through my chest;

It’s about to explode.

Heartbreak;

It’s killing me;

Cold empty nights in summer evenings;

It’s been months now.

Why do I love and hate you in

Equal measure?

I keep my side of the bed still.

Dreaded is the day, but something of

Longing, when there’s

“The New Special Someone”

There to wake me up.

A good morning kiss;

A cup of tea;

A kick out of bed;

A 5’2” corpse with a murmuring heartbeat

Beside me, eating the pillow with every

Perfect snore.

Why won’t I come back from this?

Why can’t I be the old bastard me no more?

I’m sick of it.

I’m done.

I’m through.

I’m lovesick and I

Refuse to make myself better.

Why do I do this to myself?

Stained tears on dry cheeks?

Why is it, and can

Only be,

You?

The writing, my head,

Has become an incoherent scribble of

Needless words and

Empty promises.

Why was it ‘us’ before

And now it’s ‘me’

Thereafter.