Sylvie Hill

West Coast, Alibi and the Princess Idiot

By Christ, mate!
You make me want to love you with my crock pot!
Massage your hands and pulse your cock.
Get you iced water, or top you up
And listen to how the fuck your day was!

By Christ, mate!
Your garbled Souf London accent in your phone, you’re done
Day’s over, and you’re cleaning up
Sneaking in a text to the one who’s fun
Can I do your laundry: the bed’s made up!

I’ve always maintained my position on no kids
Always wanted to serve my man instead
But tragic it is that those who loved me I didn’t give all this (princess)
And those who were there for the ride always benefitted (idiot).

By Christ, mate!
Your atrocious spelling and punctuation!
The godawful formatting of your communication.
But you’re in there arguing your stance as a feminist
And that not all men are bad, nor women sluts: ridiculous.

By Christ, mate!
The way you shake hands with my friends
The way hugged me so hard you’d break ribs
The way you launch into real convos without hesitation
Your gentlemanly ways with your vulgar pronounciations

Get thee to Vancouver!
The weather is better!
And when you say goodbye?
West Coast alibi…

With kindness,

Princess Idiot

Sylvie Hill 2018