Thank you for the invitation but
can I please decline? I must drag
my couch into the crippled fridge
and weep through another night.
There is a shelf suitably
miserable, where every thought
of her thuds to the ground with
the hushed squeak of a dying
egg. Leave the sun switched off please.
Order me a takeaway eclipse from
the kebab shop down the road.
I will lie here curled into a centipede on
the frosted floor next to a half-eaten
apple she left mummified in layers
of cling film. Let me stare at
the silhouette of her mouth
while you enjoy your caviar.
Memories come with a best
before date on the label and
her good night kiss will be stale