DRIP

(A not-so tiny spring poem, the prompt: DRIP)

I know it’s mean to let it rip,

But my ex-husband was quite a drip.

Not in the way you might suppose,

His looks were good, he wore nice clothes.

A couple of years after we’d been wed,

He turned into a bonehead.

This man who’d once been rather fun,

His sense of humour came undone!

Every time I had a laugh,

He eyed me like I was riffraff.

I wore eggshells instead of shoes,

My heart felt like a giant bruise.

And then one day he met a chick,

Some nasty meanie from Munich,

Her little Schnitzel he became,

Apparently she lit his flame.

So I asked for a divorce,

Refused all money, cried myself hoarse.

Then suddenly I’d had enough,

Hey, Gemma Talbot could be tough!

I washed my hair, reclaimed my groove

To Caliente’s music began to move.

I rang Celeste, then booked a flight,

I would celebrate my life!

Ibiza’s the place for me,

I’m the creative sort, you see,

The flight was late, I was quite bored,

When suddenly, oh my sweet lord!

A gorgeous man sat next to me,

Emilio Caliente in the next seat!

The Spanish popstar! It was him!

I worried he might find me dim.

But goodness me, we had a chat!

But it didn’t stop at that!

To know the rest, I’m so sorry

Read the book Just Like A Movie!