On love, dating and biscuits

I’ve picked a silly one to start off the New Year! I recently revised this poem, in the hopes of performing it at SMUT in Nottingham. SMUT is a really cool poetry open mic that focuses on themes of love, sex and relationships. I wanted to read this poem out at their September 2023 event, but I didn’t manage to make it along in the end. So, you’re getting first dibs! Crumbs about two women and the obsession with biscuits that comes between them. Give it a cheeky read, and let me know what you think! 

Crumbs 

Some women live for football and some women love their wine,

some women seem quite normal when you chat them up online. 

But this girl wasn’t into kinky sex, or sport, or fashions.

No, slightly more prosaic were her own obsessive passions.

 

The sight of diamonds didn't leave her blinded, like a rabbit;

this girl had one fixation – an enormous biscuit habit!

Our first date was a little odd – she called me up from Aldi

to tell me she was stocking up on Nice and Garibaldi.

I offered her a take-away, but she refused Chinese,

and Indian and Mexican: this girl was hard to please!

And in the end, we went to hers; she said she'd cook for me,

but I expected more than fifteen packets of Rich Tea!

I was done! All set to leave, until she swayed her hips,

and, with her hungry eyes on me, reached for the chocolate chips.

The custard creams! The party rings! The moistened chocolate fingers!

I've tried to wipe it from my mind, but still, the visions linger!

Nut Crunch, digestives, wafers; jammy dodgers, hobnobs too!

(Not Jaffa cakes, coz those are cakes, and that would never do!)

Our torrid love affair went on for twenty-three days straight

until the day she came to mine – then love transformed to hate!

Because I had a secret life, a gap we couldn’t bridge,

the fact I kept my biscuits neatly stacked inside my fridge.

“But biscuits can’t be chilled!” She raged. “You’ll ruin all the taste.”

She snatched the custard creams and then shot off with undue haste. 

And I was left, a crumpled mess, all sticky and half-chewed –  

with nowt but chilly bourbons left to dip into my brew.

It’s been ten years, and still I miss her chocolate-covered smile,

And in the supermarket, I avoid biscuit aisle.

And even now I think of her when eating gingerbread.

She left sugar in my heart that month and crumbs all in my bed.

Image via unsplash.com