Instead of Ever After

This poem keeps wanting to write itself -

Just gallop off wild with its heartbreak -

And tell you the story of me and a woman

Who never harmed me, make no mistake.

And that is the tragedy, 

That's the whole story,

That is the clown on parade.

I was in my twenties,

I'm soon to be forty,

Thinking back to what can't be unpaid.

Still acting like love is magic.

Yes, well I mentioned it's tragic.

And if I had just one thing to say...

Well,

I swear if this poem keeps running away

I'm going to say s**t I'll regret.

I haven't even named any names yet.

Aren't choices a delicate thing?

And therein's the comedy,

"She's not married yet,"

Said the bus driver on the way home.

I maintained, "We've done that",

But with those who'd confirm it

I sit here completely alone,

With a poem that's writing itself

Of a man grown so low on a shelf

That though he had only one thing to say...