Then she was beautiful
Then she was fine
But even then she never was mine.
And I thought then was my moment
I thought then was my time
I thought then – even then – was time for my rhymes.
And so then it was that minute
She then said soon I’d only be happy
If then I might forget and drop all my goddamn nonsense poetry.
And then I thought how very wrong she bloody fuck it was
And then it was true it formed my identity
And then it was clear I’d be unlikely to obey.
And so then it turned out
That actually then I was wrong:
No lips would then touch my lips in passion.
No lips would then ever touch mine at all
No handsome woman would then again phone my call
No lovely voice would then embrace my body full.
In truth, then, quite ridiculously
I then made a fool of myself
In truth, then, it’s true:
My life is over.