He’s got that feeling
In his gut, it is his
Balls crawling back inside,
Retreating. He walks into
The bedroom, she is sprawled
Out on the bed like
A baked worm on
Hot bitumen
She chatters about
Television
Television Magazines
Television Celebrities
He turns on the radio. Turns
The late night show up loud
She stops chattering and looks
At him with vixen green
Eyes, despite the radio
It is quiet in the
Room. As they continue to
Look
At each other.
“It is over” he says quietly
Her fat bottom lip protrudes,
His trepid, exploring balls have travelled
All the way up
Into his throat
“I’ve met someone else” she picks
Up a pair of nail scissors and stares at him
As she drags them across her
Windpipe
“I’ve grown bored of you”
She stands up on
The bed and throws herself
Out of the open window
Paralysed he has to look after her
For almost forever
“You talk too much and I miss the
Peace of quiet”
She stands up on the
Bed, grabs the nail scissors
Plants them in his eye and
Pulls him out of the open
Window
Both paralysed they lie
Next to each other for
Almost forever
“It is over and
I loved
That song”
“Aww” she cooed
“You’ve got a warm heart”
“And no
Balls” he
Thought.
