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I don’t live here,
Merely passing through.
I’ll be on my way
And you’ll just wave forlornly.

You brew the tea;
One milk, two sugars.
I’ll relax in this cushioned armchair
While your mum cooks cheese potato.

Dirty plates lie unwashed
Since we have better things to do.
Sunbathe ‘til your back turns red,
Then fall asleep apart; alone.

The easy grace you carry
And that so enraptures me.
Whether golden stars adorn your face
Or eyes half-closed in sleep.

Whilst none of this explains it all
Each has its part to play.
And though I’ll never tell you this
(Keep quiet)
I love you.

But I don’t live here,
Merely passing through.
I’ll be on my way
And you’ll just wave forlornly.

So this is a form of goodbye;
My suicide beauty queen.