We hadn't seen each other for a year.
Before you kissed me
You smiled at me
With those sparkling blue eyes
(My heart
Stopped.)
And you said
"When I met you you said
It's okay, I'll probably be in love with you for like three years and then get over it.
It's been almost three years, maybe this is the end."
And I said,
"I was mistaken."
And kissed you.
But you're gone again
And I've decided.
I've decided
I wasn't mistaken.
I've decided
You were right.
This
Is
The
End.

In happiness I am content
I am happily content with you

An Uncomfortable Poem.*

Kicked your dog? Beaten your wife, husband, kids?
Cheated on your spouse, your taxes, a test? Cursed god?
Had *** to get something? Done a *******? A babysitter?
Shot ******? Been a secret alcoholic? ****** to inflict pain?
Sold drugs, your integrity, your body? Been *****? ***** someone?
Bullied a weaker soul? Kicked someone already down?
Betrayed a confidence, a lover, a coworker, your country?
Hit and run? Been in prison? Stolen money, credentials, a poem?
Alienated your partner, your children, the world?
Killed someone in a battle, a street fight, by accident?
Broken a heart on purpose? Been cruel? Lied for advantage?
Walked away from another’s pain? Sold out love? Spurned it?
No? Never? Not one? Not once? Really? Perhaps you are a Saint.
Only one person knows these things for sure.
What we leave out becomes our Gothic narrative of secrets.
The wheels within our wheels within our wheels. Churning.
   *We are what we choose to reveal. Only that, no more.
    Everything else hidden behind a closed, locked door.

Rejoice at Morning’s Miracle,
For We are here again.
The Grim Reaper
Has let us live another day.

God’s Grandeur shines upon us
As, again, the clichéd golden sun
Pokes her head through the Eastern clouds.

An orchestra of chiming birds
Greets the day
As again I say
Rejoice!
I repeat: Rejoice.

Time to check the temperature outside
And scatter some wild birdseed.
Time for breakfast
And the early news.

Time to have a pub-lunch,
Then a game of tennis
Or table tennis
Or snooker.

Morning’s time to meet my Muse,
And listen to her lyrical tunes.
To get composing,
No more dozing:
Broadcasting words
Throughout The Milky Way.

Enjoying the day
I look forward to
Some cloudless skies
So I can sit
And watch the stars.

Paul Butters