I found meaning in a shrivelled note
Scratches of pen to form a long-forgotten quote
It fell out of a lady’s bag, she didn’t even see
She wouldn’t notice when she gets home
And drinks her expensive tea

I found meaning in a one-night-stand
With a handsome face and strong callused hands
I can’t remember the exact shade of eyes
But I can still taste his warm lips, and feel
His fingers spreading my shaking thighs

I found meaning in a war history book
It wasn’t that I loved it, or that it had me quite hooked
It was rather the proof of existence, the triggers,
The consequences and aftermath  
That left me there to wonder.