The Bed

An entire relationship in a single poem.

The bed


The bed was ours,

Half yours, half mine.

You had the lamp,

But that was fine.


On winter nights,

You kept me warm,

Snuggled up,

Against the storm.


You’d reach your hand out

In the night,

Just to check,

I was all right.


And when the morning,

Broke the spell,

I’d breath you in,

Absorb your smell.




On clumsy nights,

When you got in,

You’d scratch your toe nail,

Down my shin.


Then intrude

Into my space

With rhythmic snoring,

In my face.


You sprawled across me,

Legs apart.

You’d scratch you arse,

Let out a fart.


Before we knew it,

Each night we found,

The bed became

A battle ground.




And now you’ve gone,

The bed is mine,

I have the lamp,

And that is fine.


It took me months,

Before I tried,

To roll across,

On to your side.


Then many more,

Till I was able.

To put my drink,

On your side table,


Or save the walk

Around the bed,

Get in and out,

your side instead.


I needed time,

To readjust

To being me,

No longer us.