False advertising

Remember those first heady days

It was a new year, which meant a new resolution

We would try to make this work out

Or that work out, find a solution

I bought a new outfit, I’m going to look fit

But you didn’t believe it

Not one little bit

Like in any relationship

You have to work hard

So I put in the effort

And every extra yard

You told me be patient

Good things come to he who weights

 But all you did was take my money

How could we be soul mates?

I did all the running

My diet made me thin

I just gave it my all

And you offered me spin

Its no competition you said

Not a race

I was a guy on a treadmill

Not going any place

It was sink without swimming

Your steamy session plans

Landed me in hot water

And a leisure centre ban

Your talk of a healthy future

Could not keep me on track

It seems you’d just find other ways

In which I probably lack

Now everything hurts

And with every muscle ache

I wonder how many other guys

You left in your wake

I’m leaving now

Keep your money, your kudos

Your false promises and vim

It’s over, its finished, I’m done with you


Published by G Turner

Gavin Turner is a poet and writer of short fiction. He lives in North West England. Some of his work is published here on this site and more recently in other journals and publications.

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