Fireworks & Tapas

He wanted drunken talks till dawn,
Make up sex and white wine,

She wanted flower boxes,
Cut off points
And fresh towels for visitors.

He wanted poetry
That changed the world
And bed sheets that smelt of the future,

She wanted organic aubergines,
Fresh fruit in a bowl
And re-upholstered furniture.

He wanted guidelines and stability,
Broadsheets at the weekends,
Hot topics alive in the air,

She wanted everything and nothing,
Sunday winds and a low carbon footprint,
A life that rolls by like a golf ball
Down a hillside of green pesto dreams.

Their end came with fireworks and tapas,
Rioja, confused pets and cold stares,
A bitterness but no real conclusions,
A puppeteers hands swiping air.

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