Exorcism

The glug of the bottle was a low, heavy sound,

a rhythmic confession you didn't think I heard.

You said the Merlot was for when guests come around,

but you're drinking the promise and choking the word.

There's a red waxy crescent on the rim of the glass,

sitting square on a bill that we're late on again.

I’m watching the ghost of our better days pass

and for once I’m not reaching for paper or pen.

I’m not checking the levels or hiding the key.

The weight in my chest has just turned into lead.

You can drown if you want to. You’re finally free

from the version of you that I kept in my head.