There is no such as a happy ending
The reason Shakespear failed in writing us our perfect love story is that
The mere notion that things would stop
if they were happy
doesn’t make any sense
The highway of happiness
Allows the car or motorbike or van that is ourselves
With a full tank of petrol
Take the eager passengers of emotion
Depending on the space within
Carry us on a cruise or a splutter
until the end of the asphalt

The end of the road of life,
is the end of life
Anyone who says there’s dignity in death
Obviously hasn’t held the hand of a loved one
As they splutter for breath
Rasping and shallow
Asleep but begging for something you can’t give them
Someone

Death isn’t dignified
It’s a rusty engine collapsing
The car that has driven you
for your whole life
You have oiled, serviced, mot-ed,
loved,
Neglected,
Repaired
failing for one last time

No matter how many *** holes you have hit
Flat tyres, blowing and wiping out days, weeks months of exploring
We still travelled forward
Experiencing every view and every bump along the way
There’s no happiness in the end of the road
It’s only there in how you look back upon the journey