Leaving Home
I didn’t move house,
I just left.
Grabbed my jacket
And to hell with the rest.
The pictures will stay
On their nails in the wall,
The shoes remain huddled
Silently on the floor,
The shirts dangle limp
On their hooks in the closet,
The remote is now stuck
In the place where we lost it.
The food will all rot,
Turn to ash given time,
The ants will parade
To the cupboards in lines,
The rugs and the carpets
Will strain over the floor,
The postman will add
To the pile by the door.
The locks will all change
And our keys will be useless,
I’ll throw mine away
And your’s is your business,
I’ll leave the taps running
And the lights all on,
And the neighbours will never know
That I’m gone.
