No Power In The Verse Can Stop Me NaPoWriMo 2025

In the old days
We would’ve had to write earnest letters
Sighing deeply between the niceties
We would’ve had to have tea
Make small talk about geraniums
Whilst trying not die every time you looked at me 

In the old days 
We’dve been married to some inoffensive prick
If we were lucky, and didn’t get one with a violent streak.
We’d just happen to turn up to the same plays 
The darkness electrified by proximity
Spend all day inventing reasons to stay 
When a neighbourly call lasted til late 

In the old days 
Maybe we’dve run away 
To Paris, or Mexico, or Monterey Bay 
Somewhere where nobody knew our names 
We’d steal back our dowries and live off the interest 
Start an artist’s collective 
Or a writer’s retreat 
In our safe little nest
Where we could finally rest
We’d be free, and happy, and 
never discrete