“I’m going to call him!”

The thought gave me a lob-sided grin.

I was alone drinking lots of yummy wine,

When the lovely little thought arrived.

I put down my drained glass,

Held a stub of chalk in my grasp.

It wasn’t the best summoning circle,

More of an oval with a wax candle hurdle.

I drank as I drew,

Empty bottles started to queue,

The pattern on the floor grew,

At some point I lost a shoe.

Then the words that I had to repeat,

Warmth seeped through my feet.

I had only last thought as the being rose,

Now it’s open - how do I close?

But my demon ex had materialised,

When they saw me their eyebrows did rise.

“Sam? Why are you calling me?”

The being said with his eyes three.

I felt my burst of courage fuelled by drink,

Launched into a tirade before I could think.

“You tall ~hic~ son of a biscuit!

You … owe me my concert tickets!”

“Our relationship meant jack!

Oh, and I want my soul back.”

My demon ex dipped his head in shame,

Concert tickets suddenly mine to claim.

Then my soul appeared in a shimmer.

“It didn’t mean ‘jack’ to me.”

It settled in my chest and I felt a winner.

Then my demon ex vanished - so did my glee.

We were wrong for each other that was true…

I never did find my shoe.