No, no, no.

When we split up
I was up to my armpits in Sinead O'Connor for days afterwards
sleeping in my clothes
yet somehow still wandering round the supermarket in my pyjamas.

'She'll come back to me,' I said
slapping myself across the face,
waking in the bath, shivering in cold water
after falling asleep again.

'I am in love with a girl called Kelly' I tell my tattooist
but by now he knows that more than anyone.

'I am not depressed,' I tell myself.
'I don't even have a dressing gown.'

'She does not want to go on holiday with you,'
the travel agent explains
taking the Eurostar brochures from me.
He asks me to stop coming in because it's breaking his heart.

'I just want one more chance,' I start to text to her
but my phone is snatched from my hand.
'No more texts,' I am told.
The London Community Gospel Choir are in my living room
wagging their fingers.
'It's over,' they say,
and wait with me until I admit they're right.
I had no idea I had so many chairs.