You never come to the door anymore,
Flatmate, the unwilling deputy, pushes it open
again
Silently
All out of small talk, she’s
evaporated
I trudge upstairs towards the ambient glow
the tinny circus music songs
The back of your head above a silver beanbag
My rival in her place in the corner, mesmerising sound and vision
Excitement, satisfaction, contentment
All your needs met
Your head doesn’t turn
I’ve evaporated
I’m defeated