the hungrypoet.co.uk Poems

Sticky Mouse
Your bags were packed when you got home,
and not metaphorically
either. I made up my mind without you
...

You smile and say “My dear you’re looking well”
The view must be improved from your position
The fight’s not over ‘til the final bell.
...

You play me with your clumsy hands,
I acquiesce to your demands.
Thin melodies don’t quell the ache,
Nor deeper bass lines in me wake.
...

You hide in regulated rows running
through the days of the week with
pinpoint perfection, you pretty little pills.
...