I was waiting for a happy ending
But now I'm just waiting for the end

Some mornings
I look at my face
and feel a pang of loss.
Like a thing once
fresh and succulent,
forgotten then found
grayed and desiccated
and stuck to the back
of the fridge.

I exaggerate.

Yet I am too old to be salad.

Across the dandelion
Where wine sprout out like daisy.
There I came searching for you.
Like winter,
So you came.
How can I love you
My moon and stars!

.
He is just another notch
     on her sterile bed of love.
He is just another victim
     of conquest for her thighs.
She is just another link
     in his daisy chain of woe.
She is just another span
     on his long bridge of sighs.


© Pagan Paul (21/05/17)

Simple things for simple people;
they live a simple life,
marry a simple wife and

have simple children and
leave a simple history for
the world, upon their death.

They stumble on a beautiful
today and trip on a wonderful
tomorrow; and prosper always.

They live out their lives
in peace and die quietly
without suffering and at ease.

They are like the rising
and setting of the sun
that comes and goes quietly.

They are the envy of
everyone that knows struggle,
war or pain: this I know.

I fell in love with
words not yet created and
wrote a story my own way.