The distant sofa

Since you’ve left
Everything’s wet

I hold my breath
As the door swings open

I swim to the fridge
Pulling the spaghetti off my chest

I pretend to have an appetite 
Downing my portion

Making it 
To the distant sofa

Hyperventilating 
Cousteau drama

I tell myself I’ll be rescued soon
Then drown in the bedroom

Rescued by an alarm
And a government job

Posing without a smile
For the photo