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Sticky Mouse
Your bags were packed when you got home,
and not metaphorically
either. I made up my mind without you
...

You smile and say “My dear you’re looking well”
The view must be improved from your position
The fight’s not over ‘til the final bell.
...

You play me with your clumsy hands,
I acquiesce to your demands.
Thin melodies don’t quell the ache,
Nor deeper bass lines in me wake.
...

You hide in regulated rows running
through the days of the week with
pinpoint perfection, you pretty little pills.
...

the hungrypoet.co.uk Biography

I am The Hungry Poet! My name is Claire Jones and I am a British writer with a love of real-life poetry that isn't afraid to explore difficult issues. For more, please visit my blog at www.thehungrypoet.co.uk Happy reading!)

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Sticky Mouse

Sticky Mouse
Your bags were packed when you got home,
and not metaphorically
either. I made up my mind without you
because otherwise I’d get lost
in your labyrinth excuses,
finding myself leaning against
false walls and falling into traps.

I left your things outside the door,
discretely because I’m not the
kind of wife who’d chop your suits
to bits and strew them on the lawn
in a fit of pique. I’ll give up
quietly, bailing out. This marriage
is holding water; going down.

I included everything I
knew you’d need because there’s no point
in providing reasons for you
to come back home and bamboozle
me with your skewed logic that it
was a sticky mouse button which
caused you to add her as a friend.

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