Back in the day,

We were friends that liked to flirt

And you’d been there and done it,

Before I’d even begun it


Too young to be ruined by good looks

Or be crippled by drink

I should’ve seen your mum as a warning

But your freckles made you different,

Private school, purple-hair, anti-hero, totally cool


I knew you had to move fast – the gothic look won’t last,

And my passion

For your lack of fashion

Is burning embers still


What happened in the years in-between?

5500 shaves for me,

The shadow growing thicker

Your hormonal candle burning quicker

Than my body which still tells tales of

Nights out in your new-rocks

And others spent in, with Bride of Chucky

And me

Watching your grin


Are you now totally clean,

Since the years in-between?

I’m more serious. It starting happening around

When they expanded Norwich Rd

Six or seven years now,

No going back

I shouldn’t go back in my head

But the magic you fed, nourishes me still


If you’ve become the machine

In the time in-between

Ignore, as you will, ignore

Save your peck on the cheek

For my pretty little dream.

  1. Your poetry is like magic – it is explained only in its occurrence.

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