iBlonde

molotov cocktails

high heeled expletives

napalm hot 

primed and ready

i am your conception the

glossy purr perfection 

blonde bombshell

now be careful not to go off

in my hands

SPLAT!

then there’s the tension

the trepidation of

a booby-trapped kiss

from a lover you know will

break your heart into little bits

(time and time again bomb)

but in his arms

an atomic reaction

and when he looks into my eyes

he sees my history

documented into a dolby surround 

soundtrack of him telling me

i’m beautiful i fall 

head first

in the fermenting odour of poor 

judgement

but never mind all that

he took my number

POW! 

© 2013  by  iDrew

First published by Black Mirror  2014

Caught By The Short and Curlys

Contemptuous look from my reflection

provides all the recommended 

daily dosage of self derision, 

or in other words

just desserts, let it all come crashing down; 

I’ve fucked-up, 

again.

(A feral 

earring. Confirmation artefact; hallmarked 

proof of my deceit.)

Circumstantial archaeology and gossip. 

She was such a small mistake, 

a sluttish little size eight. 

Let’s talk about this.  Please.

There’s vengeance in those dagger sharp eyes 

honed and Maybelline underlined.  Lashes flick-whip. 

Tirades of obscenities from lush kissable lips, 

then I face the cold shoulder as if straight from the fridge 

(isn’t that an omen about serving revenge). 

In the pit of your silence; 

I stumble,

fall head long onto broken promises. 

Onto words that cut, that slice,

that hang in the air like a damning curse.

I’m dangling 

by my own sweet nothings.

© 2007  by P.A.Levy

First published by Kerouac's Dog

iVirus

home early from work

me boyfriend was sitting on the sofa

watching tv with a pair

of me knickers from the laundry basket

on his face i screamed wtf

he claimed given the present virus epidemic

he needed a mask but couldn’t find one

d i y supermarkets and chemists all sold out

thought me gusset would do the job

and yer stiffy i coyishly quizzed

he deeply inhaled and in a casual

matter of fact way as if claiming sanctuary

odour de fanny

fancy finishing me off babe

he daemonly replied with

a glint like russell brand

yeah you be sick boy - pervy sick

consider yerself

discharged

© 2020  iDrew