A Decade of Stagnation

Free Verse ReVolution

I was twenty when I met my
inner cynic,
a girl who
wore lipstick darker than
January days,
who carried her
shoulders with the weight
of their chips.

She played my
search for normalcy like
nickel slots and
lost
horribly,
deforesting my optimism
to cut down one
single tree.

She was my undoing,
and meant everything
to me.

As the couches padded comas and late night TV hosts changed like the arrangement of trash on my domicile floor, unopened, shaken sodas unleashed their supernovas on once-beautiful decor.

And I’m bored of
the pennies she’s saved
like they were
a boy worth saving
but were just

men misbehaving,
blaming their place
in the food chain
on predators
above.

(I was always
a cent in
a world you can’t buy
anything for
less than
dollars.)

It’s time to
move on, love, while

we’ve both
got some honour to our
names.

Related:
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