What are we doing? The end is inevitable. Wanna cut? Cut! End Scene! Cut our losses. Cut each other loose. Cut before the cut gets deeper and infected. Or, Would you rather endure the rinse cycle-- Spinning furiously into oblivion? On autopilot, nearly off it's gears and hinges. Shaking the walls of the antique machine Shaking the wall it's sucking energy from. What a metaphor to us. Wall-shaking and energy-sucking. Like a milkshake through a straw, You're difficult just for your own sake. Ignorant to the frustration of the one on the other side Not caring if they throw a fit; Unphased if they walk away. From you, I shouldn't walk At least not shy of briskly. And from me you should have ran; Ran marathons, Ran light-years away. But you don't care to lace your sneakers. So instead, you ran us into the ground. Pavement, grass, it didn't matter We nose-dived into disposal-- garbage. We were the "perfect storm" The perfect mix of furious rain And betrayal gusts. A sprinkle of humid sighs And arctic question marks. You didn't board the windows. You didn't fasten our dreams; Monumentally failed to iron out our plans. You marveled in the destruction, Smiling at the uprooting of our time. Just another not-so-stale conclusion To regret when boredom overcomes you. National Poetry Month~ going strong!
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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