I like you – you said
over the smouldering ends of a non perfect day.
I’d marry you if you wore your doc martins
and I was the marrying kind.
However, I’m not, so we won’t
we’ll just rub along.
Be a love
pass me that last, chocolate éclair.

I think you are pretty – you said
removing your horned rimmed glasses.
Well – you might be, if not for
your hair – and your gormless blank stare.
Plus, I never do compliments –
they’re just so incredibly dumb!

I think you suit me – you said
stretching your languid limbs.
I’ve always thought
it such a sin – that you are dreadfully thin,
though nothing a good meal couldn’t solve.

I think you love me – you said
rising slowly from your eminent pose.

Yes, I expect I might – in the dead
of the night – with my faculties’
void of all sense.
However, I know we’re not meant – so
don’t take offense; just take your éclair
and go shove…


Poppy 22nd April 2014 ~xx~

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3 thoughts on “Eclairs

  1. This one is a bit different than your usual style. It is more direct and the sharp, shining knife is, as always, hidden and ready. Your poems are very therapeutic for me. They are showing me the “other side” of many moments of my life. I don’t believe I was ever in a situation like the one above, but I am sure the gentleman in question may think the same thing.

    Thank you for continuing to write!


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