Spend a Friday Night with Amy Winehouse’s “You Know I’m No Good” (a special tribute)


Meet you dowstairs in the bar and hurt. Your rolled up sleeves in your skull t-shirt, you say ‘What did you do with him today?’, and sniffed me out like I was Tanqueray. Because you’re my fella my guy, hand me your Stella and fly. By the time I’m out the door, you tear men down like Roger Moore.

I cheated myself like I knew I would. I told you I was trouble. You know that I’m no good.

Upstairs in bed with my ex boy, he’s in a place but I can’t get joy. Thinking on you in the final throes, this is when my buzzer goes. Run out to meet you, chips and pitta. You say ‘when we married’, because you’re not bitter. ‘There’ll be none of him no more’. I cried for you on the kitchen floor.

Sweet reunion Jamaica and Spain, we’re like how we were again. I’m in the tub, you on the seat. Lick your lips as I soap my feet. Then you notice likkle carpet burn. My stomach drop and my guts churn. You shrug and it’s the worst, who truly stuck the knife in first.

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