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.

So,
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."