He

He’ll make you scrambled eggs

Stir fries of all expensive tastes

Take you for moonlit walks

Ask you nicely about your day

He’ll make sure you never need to worry about a thing

For every need supplied with wry smile or pleasant grin

He’ll say to you the words that are convenient to hear

Such as how you make him laugh

Or how this clip sits well within your hair

He’ll kiss you with half curled lips

Stroke your skin with plastic thumb

Lick your skin with woollen tongue

Does he thrill you once he’s done?

You’ll be supplied and satisfied

No need to wonder what’s going on

The height of satisfaction

None of the daring, gasping sun

None of the shine that burns your skin

Makes you hurt, makes you cry

None of the love that shakes your heart

That you shy from as you said goodbye

None of the winter like it felt those weeks we were apart

None of the summer when you came back again

None of the thorns we threw like darts

Your love with him is comfortable

Like an IKEA sofa bed

For you no more four poster

Or the lover’s well-spilt blood

With him the sky is out of reach

The ground you’ll firmly stay

Let cold Earth comfort you

Your wings are tucked away

If you had seen the poet dance

The hunter kill his prey

Seen mastership in the twinkling eye

You’ll know from him it’s far away

The poet hurts and bruises

Can’t take every stinging dart

Can;t say to you what you want to hear

Though it breaks his strangled heart

He can love and gush upon you

Make you dream and spark and flower

Doesn’t wish so much for wilting

Carries the pain that love endures

Be happy with your quiet man

But know him as a fake

His script is fine but unrehearsed

His bread stale and overbaked

He’ll never know that freedom

Comes from letting go

Know that true love’s blooming

Hurts like salt cuts to the face