For Stella 

This is a poem about my mate Stella

Made up of all the words that burst in flurries of slurs and I’m usually too drunk to tell ‘er

Now I better get this right for the only other girl our guys are too afraid to fight.

From meeting and greeting in passing at Penrose parties

Admiring from a distance

To clicking in an instant

The instant we poured Mead into Buds I knew it was love 

(Obviously I’m finishing this up in a pub)

Wasted in a graveyard she drew herself into my parent’s hearts and now one of the two friends always allowed at their yard

Nights out

List me a time we haven’t drunk whiskey

Let this be an ode to every time we got pissed


I’ve been looking for someone to match me

I’m not Gerri Halliwell but I am her spicy ginger

She knows that I love her when I give her the finger

Friendship like a bad smell I know it’s sure to linger

So this is a poem about my mate Stella

Not in my life long but ever since it’s been so much better

And it’ll take a hell of a lot to fucking forget her

My fucking mate Stella 


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