He turns up drunk. Another night of beery vomit and piss on the carpet. Turn off the TV. Turn the cat out. Turn off the lights. Turn in for the night. Turn over in a futile effort to sleep. Turn up the volume of your fake orgasm—it makes him come more quickly. Turn on the shower and wash him out of you. Turn to the wall to avoid his foetid breath. Once, he turned your head with his witty banter. Now you have no one else to turn to. This year, though, you will turn another page. Without him.
By Yvonne Clarke