Cold Blooded, An Ode to Old Blokes

Such probing questions from a 10 year old mustn’t be taken lightly, so I answered them as honestly as I could. He wasn’t fazed by my responses except for the one on the number of boyfriends I had. Instead of mentioning numbers as it’s very important to be politically correct here, I said there were a couple of them. What? More than two? Probably he found it shocking because he thought his dad would have many girlfriends, but not this boring old mum. Hah! Little that he knows about mum’s cool life once upon a time, not too long ago. Here’s a poem inspired by one of the love stories.

Cold Blooded

I wear my heart on my sleeves

Thinking it’ll be easier to be seen

I am wronged.

You trampled on with the sweetest pleas

Taking advantage of what can be seen

My hurt is more than I can bear

Aching heart, bleeding profusely

I am wronged.

Your constant leeching leaving me bare

Everything you’ve taken so freely

I often wonder, what’s left in here

When empty shell is all I see

I am wronged.

Your presence never help, dear

A killer is what you turned out to be

Death calls I hear ringing from a distance

Coming nearer

I am wronged.

Your conscience’s clear, no sign of reluctance-

In fact could that be a silent cheer?


*Photo credit: Tim Marshall (


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