The Cold Shoulder

I wrote this five minutes ago. It’s very silly. Enjoy.

 

 

There are times when you look at me,

In the dead of the night,

With the coldest stare I know

And I ask you “what went wrong?”

And you offer no reply.

 

There are times when I need you,

In the dead of the night,

And you give me the cold shoulder

And I ask you “why don’t you give anymore?”

And you offer no reply.

 

There was a time before, when,

In the dead of the night,

Your warm glow would invite me,

And I’d ask “what will we have tonight?”

And you’d offer chocolate cake

And lemon curds and whipped cream.

 

There was a time before, when,

In the dead of the night,

Your gentle hum serenaded me,

And I cradled your white structure

And I’d coo; “what delights do you have for me tonight?”

And you’d offer me chocolate mousse,

And cream eclairs and blocks of Dairy Milk.

 

And now, at this time,

In the dead of the night,

I finally realise your icy mood,

I finally realise why your shelves

Are laden with grapes and Actimel

And Tofu and Shape yoghurts.

 

And now at this time,

In the dead of the night,

I understand why you no longer answer me

And I ask “what did she do to you?”

And from behind me, my mum answers:

“I’ve put you on a diet.”

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Author: paganpages

Writer of weird fiction, lover of coffee and stories with a twist.

One thought on “The Cold Shoulder”

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