A TV screen, blank and faceless,
A flickering bulb, swinging in a still air,
The only motion- a bath overflows.
Why don't you turn the taps my dear?
Or step in, plunge and immerse yourself,
Freezing, silky, dip your head.
A hand on the back of your neck,
Forces a struggle, calm down, it's only me,
Your sweetheart, your lover, but you're my hater.
I know what you did, slam the bathroom door.
Flailing arms, grasping fingers- no.
It's too late, they will match the prints,
But it doesn't matter, this cold steel will do the job.
First you, then me, a greying life-
a fused lighbulb, a bed of lies.
A lifetime not there.