The house is not the same since you left.



The house is not the same since you left

The cooker is angry – it blames me

The TV tries desperately to stay busy

But occasionally I catch it staring out of the window

The washing-up’s feeling sorry for itself again

It just sits there saying

“what’s the point, what’s the point?”

the curtains count the days

Nothing in the house will talk to me

I think your armchair’s dead

The kettle tried to comfort me at first

But you know what its attention span is like

I’ve not told the plants yet

They think you are still on holiday

The bathroom misses you

I hardly see it these days

It still can’t believe you didn’t take it with you

The bedroom won’t even look at me

Since you left it keeps its eyes closed

All it wants to do is sleep, remembering better times

Trying to lose itself in dreams

It seems like it’s taken the easy way out

But at night I hear the pillows

Weeping into the sheets.



Henry Normal.