“My imaginary boyfriend,”
Miss Pretty said, “will send
Me red roses and boxes of chocs;
Buy me black stockings and tight fitting frocks.
He’ll take to theatre to see modern plays,
Then talk of his ex and her funny ways.
Me and wine
Me, then walk me back home,
He’ll take me to Paris or maybe to Rome
To see all the sights,
Then spend all the nights
In a drunken stew,
On the carpets, or sleep
Like a creep
In his own sordid dream
Without me, it would seem.
This was not how I thought it would end
With my ex imaginary boyfriend.”