I cannot go to your house
Because I broke the rules
I came ‘round and upset the
Balance of it all
The walls were newly painted
No clutter was in view
Unnecessary objects
Were kept to just a few
Some rooms remained quite empty
Yet as clean as a new pin
Even the garden shed was
Immaculate within
Upon the leather sofa
A space was made for me
But the moving of the cushion
Broke the symmetry
No noisy smoking teenagers
Or Grandads in the bed
No wailing hungry babies were
Expecting to be fed
No tears of grief or madness
Nor angry banging doors
No dribble, shit or vomit
To stain the polished floors
You told me that your house mate
Was your lover in past times 
But with ‘emotional maturity’
It would be just fine
It would cost too much, you said
to go your separate ways
The price of flats in London
makes it so hard these days

Then I came and spilt my tea
Upon your special rug
And to cap it all
I went and broke the mug
I talked  and laughed too loudly
I suppose I flirted too
But you said it was over
between herself and you?
And now I hear that I
Caused such awful stress
That your home almost crumbled
Beneath the awful mess
And this poem sort of follows on...  

Come to my house, show me your flaws
You smile at mine, and I’ll laugh at yours
Come bask in my chaos, be my welcome guest
Share imperfection, here in my nest

Come in and admire the Glorious mess
I’ll wear my best purple ill-fitting dress
No ceremony, no need to impress
Just roll around in my slovenliness

Lie on the sofa, get comfy and rest
Lay your bald head on my uneven breasts
Show me your beer belly, look at my scars
Then share messy kisses until we see stars

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