It wasn't you I wanted,
even then.
It was the other guy I was interested in
(more my kind),
but you were the one
who was willing to compromise.

You weren't such a bad silver medal,
I thought.
I could do a lot worse.

In truth, I was afraid
you were the best I could get,
and I might not get so lucky again.

You told me you loved me,
made a whole load of promises
(to protect and provide),
said you knew what was best for me.

You took advantage of my naivety.

When I woke up with you,
that May morning in 1997,
I knew it had changed.

No more sweet nothings.
You'd talk your pillow talk,
but not to me,
and having got from me
everything you'd wanted,
you forgot all about
your derelict promises.

Nine years on, you're still smiling
that same smile:
a few more lines,
the same old lies,
while I try to sleep in the bed you made,
and every now and then,
you send me a red rose,
to remind me
of your betrayal.

I'm not alone.
Hell, you screwed the entire country.

'On 1 May 1997 Tony Blair led the Labour Party to its biggest ever general election victory'

(http://www.labour.org.uk/index.php?id=primeminister)

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...