She lives with me.
I am somewhat hoping and she is somewhat coping.
I walk, holding up my head
And her weight drags, pulling me back to bed.
I attempt a smile and she whispers – “Stop it! You pretender.”

When I try to talk and listen,
she ruffles all my thoughts and gets them to commission,
A stream of tears to be delivered to the windows of my sole.
In her mind, what is my role?

When I think I am by myself,
She sneaks up on me and hisses and spits  like hell.
Occasionally she shows compassion
But mostly she’s self-pitying,
Demanding my attention.

While I keep myself distracted with BBC and such like
She curses under her breath with spite.
She is so sad. It’s unbearable to watch.
I think she should see a doctor but she says
“For what?”
“I wish I could sue them all and get them publicly hanged.”
What do you say to someone like that?
I wonder if she’ll ever leave me alone.
May be she just won’t.
Would I ever let her go?
Someone who’s lost so?

Afterall, I’m her’s and she’s mine.
Maybe we won’t.
Maybe we will. Be fine.