Trazodone

It’s made itself comfortable.
I wake up in the morning and it’s taken the covers
Come down for coffee but there’s no milk
Crumbs on the table, jam on the knife.
It hasn’t said how long it will stay.
Won’t replace the toilet paper, forgets to lock the back door.
It hasn’t offered rent
I tried to draw up a contract, but it laughed
Spat it in my face
And then dropped a plate on its way out.
I have to do a lot more cleaning
Scrub it from the counters, the door handles and the carpets
But its scent stays in the bath mat
Breaths down the taps
Doesn’t mind the bleach.
Its dirty clothes can’t make it into the wash basket
and it insists on every light on.
I tried to reason with it over dinner
Explain that I needed back my air,
And I thought it was listening, I thought I was getting through,
Then in the night it opened each and every window

It came later than you

You smashed down the front door
Broke all the furniture
Blew the speakers
Left.
No, it came later
Snuck in through the cat flap
Slipped into the sheets
Held me softly

It drinks all the wine
Turns the TV to mute
Encourages the weeds to grow
Cuts the signal to the phone
Doesn’t collect up the post
Is it a friend of yours?
Is this your joint venture?
Cause a wreck so people won’t notice when it moves in
But then it’s too late because once it comes it won’t go
And if you leave the house it clings to you like my child on the back

I tried to hold it under in the bath
But it pulled me down too
You know, I liked the bubbles
They smelt of lavender.

 

 

 

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