Parting shot

this, is for the false memories
suspended in photographs
hung, drawn and quartered postcards
endless phone logs
and care packages
which found their way into your arms
when I was distant and out of reach

this, is an acerbic soap box preach
my parting shot
a ghost
to haunt
the conscience you lacked
when you had someone else rolled on their back
because mine was turned

WTF

I wish I knew
what the fuck you are looking for
‘cos I just this minute saw
that creative
funny
smart
rubenesque
creature
you profess to seek
reflected
right there…
semi naked
in your bathroom mirror

She said she served herself up to you
on a silver platter
only for you to say you fancied
something less sweet
more tart
and preferably
with no meat