Take it. The photo albums. The letters.
The Christmas cards
addressed to both of us.
The bed. Yes, please take the double fucking bed
and those designer mugs we used to drink
coffee from in the mornings.
What I want
are the places and people and pubs.
Don’t go down to the beach. It’s mine.
Every single pebble is there
for me to throw.
Queens Park is my park,
I don’t want you there when I feed the swans
or lie in the grass pretending to do yoga.
And whatever you do, don’t go to the Hobgoblin.
That’s my pub. The bar stools are there
for me to occupy. And the barmaid. Her ears
lend themselves to me only.
When it comes to our friends
you can have the couples, but I want your sister
because she makes the best jokes
and the best soup. Take all the Goths
and take their misery but leave the clowns
and party animals for me.
Delete them from Facebook
forget where they live and where they go.
They are my friends now.
Don’t you dare go shopping in the Co-op. That’s my shop.
I don’t ever want to bump into you
when buying wine and chocolate for myself.
If you sell the double fucking bed
and those designer mugs
you can afford to shop in Waitrose.
If I could I would split our town in half.
© Louise Halvardsson, 2012