The dark one

As i lie in the bath and open a book

About a starving writer

Your photo falls from it

In this we are together

Like lovers at last

And yet we are nothing of the sort.

So i begin to read about a starving writer

And as he walks away from his home

Where he can’t pay the rent

My thoughts drift back to you

And i wonder how your end

Of this struggle called life

Is going and what you’re doing.

The bath becomes stuffy and hot

i look down at my body and

i’m pleased that you are not here

To see me in this state.

It’s knowing that i’d disappoint

That keeps me safe most of the time.