BATTLEFIELDS

It’s quiet without you.

Tidy, now you’ve gone.

There’s too much space.

Enough room to swing that cat of yours.

Stillness drips from walls

pooling into seas of silent nothing.

Ghosts tease me into searching shadows

and all the you-sized spaces.

The bathroom’s free, the chairs all mine

and I can surf the TV with reckless abandon.

I write BLISS in the steamy mirror

and rub it out before the final S is drawn.

Tomorrow I’ll blast out talk shows,

sprinkle crumbs on the carpet

and pile clothes in random places.

I’ll leave the cap off the toothpaste,

forget to flush the toilet

and miss the bin with every shot.

My shoes will live separate lives at the back door

while bikes stand rusting in the rain.

Until you return,

I will fill this world with chaos

eat with my fingers and leave the lights on

so you can find the way home.