Blondie

Dyed box blonde bob

Paired with ridiculous red lips

That stain her fake designer, snog

Wannabe, should have been a sign

Id end up on my knees begging,

For forgiveness to a Blondie shrine.

She too was often on her knees

Childhood dedicated to a man,

Father, Faulty - some call God.

Begged for his approval, denied it, she ran.

Kneeling for another's man approval,

In her twenties when it all began.

Blondie spent many mornings in smoky motels.

Explaining her hatred for romantic literature

Nude next to one of her many affairs.

As they pretend to care or understand.

Unable to understand she hates the pairs

In romance and the intimacy of love.

by; Tori Sheehan