The Last Day I Loved You

Put the papers away and black bags out,

like any other Tuesday.

Rose late and adjusted my gait

downstairs to the fact there

was no shadow near and no need

to get out of the way or

react  to a foregone fact

of love.

Ate what I bloody well wanted,

knowing you would have

turned your nose up,

who knows?

‘Poor man’s kedgeree,’

you might have said.

Walked to work.

I would have given you a lift.

Even though you always insisted

‘I’ll walk today,’

you never did.

The ploy got tired of its own

rictus grin.

Never strolled, never bloody

cleaned up properly.

I’m allowed, at least, to say that

to the empty walls.

Would have kicked you

out the car today,

if you had stayed.

Would have went to a bar tonight

and hit on anyone,

not that anyone

would have me

(in my deranged middle age).

At least there’s a whole wage

at the month’s end to blow alone,

bills being all the sweeter

when shared with no-one.