He liked Deanna Durbin,
her high warbling voice.
He liked Judy Garland too;
popular singers from his childhood.
Virgins and pill-heads, friends of Dorothy.
He had a fucking difficult life.
Not some cliché of a council estate life.
No those lives are black and white.
When we know,
we know it’s not even grey.
You think its hard being you,
when all you do is disguise the good stuff,
and emphasise the bad.
She out-lived him,
that princess with a hymen intact.
And I truly believe he was never truly he.
But I can’t be certain.
Because once I saw him happy, saw him laugh.
Saw the person he was, before the bottle
and the bitterness beat him down.