As the man says,

there’s only one winner

in love, never try

to patch things up

with well-meaning words,

I’m bored of this double life,

single cream, easier to swallow

taken what I need,

not enough

to scratch this itch

need a man with means

not a boy with dreams

someone to pamper,

not hamper, full stop.

No point lying,

trying to dress them up

feel better than they really are,

were they really that sharp

I’d be staying, not straying

displays of loyalty

just not what they need, 

the inevitable is,

and don’t look back, 

euthanise, quickly 

before soothing moods, worm

and warm, fertile comforts

change your mind

slip on the slippers,

pipe and hat…

Normal, ordinary, 

insanity for this, sensually

a negative charge, nothing

I crave less, 

no drug can replace 

what’s missing,

adventure, the missing gene,

no money, no trinket

in all the world,

when between the ears

is tumbleweed, drifting.


what starts with a swipe

turns to a tumble

ends with a chain 

to the bed, around 

sweet neck,

and a text,

“it’s not me, it’s you,

we’re done, “.

If you’d like to find out a bit more about this poem, click the link to the page “Explained” which shines a light on the background to each poem, or helps you to understand what the heck’s going on if you’re a bit baffled!

By cyncoed

Old & Welsh

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