Ken Gosse

Happily Never After

His vow until death;
hers, until her final breath—
her mind not consigned
once something inside had died.
No, she hadn’t lied
but stopped trying to fake it,
which, for her, meant quit.
Not denying that’s a death,
both had bated breath.
Before either died they’d find,
since she had resigned,
they were no longer aligned.
She’d fulfilled her vow,
avowing the time was now
to make an ending
longed for long before sending
that shot through his head.
Though he ignored what she said,
the one became two
and though neither departed,
both broken-hearted,
their domicile now askew,
she ended their nights,
terminating all his rights.
His days in a daze;
hers, stuck with but not by him,
they lost to her whim.
Each now pondered, worse to worst,
whose death should be first?

Ken Gosse usually writes humorous, rhymed verse with traditional form and meter. First published in First Literary Review–East in November 2016, he is also in Lothlorien Poetry Journal, Academy of the Heart and Mind, The Writers Club, Pure Slush, and others. He and his wife were raised in the Chicago suburbs. Since then, they’ve lived in Indiana, Texas, Oklahoma, Germany, and Virginia. Now retired, they’ve lived in Mesa, AZ, over 25 years, with rescue dogs and cats underfoot.