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When you first moved in
I allowed myself to hope
that despite my bad behaviour
you’d somehow learn to cope.

There were misunderstandings
that went from worse to bad,
but the killer was the curtains
that our bedroom never had.

You said you woke too early
with the dawn’s insistent light.
Unless you get a full eight hours
the next day you’re ‘a fright’.

You sent me to buy curtains,
gave me money for a pair,
but I stopped off at the bookies
and never quite got there.

Came back empty handed –
my big mistake, I think –
because you went ballistic
and I crept out for a drink.

Got home to find your note,
its message short but clear:
I’ve gone. I cannot trust you.
My first ‘Dear John’ this year.