happy endings

when i was a poet
i lived not
in a world
of actual people

convenience
draped from my fingers
words describing
gentile characters
i should never meet
face to face

but i had a handle
on the night
whose darkness
i repressed
with forest fires

a connoisseur
of happy endings
i learned to
write my wrongs
in inks that blended
disordered fragments
into prosaic syntheses

of rhymes
and rhythms
and conscious notions
that enticed the
living daylights
out of the swollen pages
of my darkest
nights


© Copyright 2019 August 10
by Clyve A. Bowen♫