Frogs in Charge.

I opened the fridge door and an inner voice said, ‘It is finished.’

I shouldn’t have listened to it. 

I shouldn’t have asked him to leave.

His name, this message, his name, this message.

I’d still of been happy cooking and consoling him, and I wouldn’t have asked him to leave.  Now all I have is a tear stained pillow and a cold breeze at 3am with thousands of croaking frogs telling me I’m no good; that he never loved me and no one ever will. 

You’re a failure, a crazy weirdo.  

I sound like Adelle, but all I can see in my mind is his naked body making love to me in the wardrobe mirrors.

I miss his singing in the morning, my footsteps being light.  I miss dreaming of forever.  I crave him like heroin, but I don’t want him back. 

I want to phone and hear his sweet voice and know I’ve stopped loving him.

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