Ends And Beginnings But The Middles Wanting. A Love Story Poem by Andy Brookes

You're the villain of this piece,
not the peaceful dreams of last night.
or the piece of silk draped over the bed
we entwined but this is no love story.
well not the usual soft and drippy sort

Not a story of making love
XXX the veil is drawn.

Entertain me Mr, entertain me, you wheedle
but then I'm no Scheherazade to tell tales Arabian
of Aladdin and lamps or carpets flying.
my imagination is limited to well
the characters that people our life
the funny veg-man, no not a man made of veg
but the man whosells us apples
from, so he says, his garden,
of which we are suspicious.
or the postman who I know has stolen letters
but I can't prove it
you tell me I'm paranoid but he won't look me in the eye.

or that apple's tale from the Garden of Eden
a half eaten tale if I ever heard one.
discarded food for worms like all of us
an ending and a beginning.
Pleasure from pain I suppose.
is that a sin? Yes you say emphatic.

did I say you're the villain of the piece?
well maybe it me.

your stories suck you said
I suppose, I reply, and slide out of bed to make breakfast
make mine soft boiled you shout
maybe, I think, sulkily you are the villain of the peace after all.
Such are the tales of life or is that the tail ends of life
I wonder.
trials I think trails.