Poem: Since then.
Since then.
.
.
It’s a bit like an itch
Or perhaps a heat rash,
Something best left alone
But irresistible to scratch.
I said I didn’t care
When you wanted to leave,
Told myself I could have fun
And so I have done regularly.
There have been a lot of men
Under the bridge since then.
I am totally over it
And I am getting on fine
Enjoying the rest of my life
Except I still feel the itch
And sometimes I cannot resist
Scratching it until it bleeds.
.
.
