8 weeks now without proper sleep
and the constant “how is he questions?”
from faces that wouldn’t see the humour in “still alive!”
and the cee dee’s collecting dust in the corner
beside that unwatched movie i need to return
and the wine left half finished
and the houseboundwastedmiddayteeveemarathons
waking up to see I have fallen asleep with a bottle in my hand
spit on my shirt
and an upset companion
nothing new, but every part of that new.
everything takes twice as long
he looks at me now