If you could hear what I thought

And I could hear what you thought

And women could hear what men thought

And men could hear what women thought...

Relationships wouldn't last very long

Death had visited 

Again

I was worried

He was becoming too familiar.

Perhaps if I moved away,

Kept my head down,

He would forget about me.

For a while

At least

'How did she die?'

They always asked that.

It annoyed me.

Once, I might have asked it too.

Now I realise

The question should be:

'How did she live her life?'

And the answer...

She lived it without fear

She said she had read my poem.

She said it made her laugh.

I thought the poem was incredibly sad.

One of us was emotionally broken.

I asked her if she hated me.

It was a safer question

Than asking if she still loved me

In the future we won’t eat food
There will be a pill

We won’t drink wine
Another pill

We won’t go out
We will be able to visit anywhere on Earth

And beyond
Via a headset

No one will write books or poems
The robots will do that for us

And the only thing people will talk about
Is the good old days

Before we ****** it all up

She wears a permanent frown  

On her deep lined face

An unwanted trophy of a hard life.

New day, same story:

Morning paper

Handful of scratch cards

Scratching away as she walks

Expressionless  

Probably no longer expecting to win

But willing to pay the small price

To hang on to the dream.

I wonder if she remembers

What the dream even is?