Been a year of poetic dehydration.

Got distracted from my melancholic flatlining and started this metaphorical reverie
To refer to myself as “reborn” and more than just a sigh in the dark.
And there I became capable only of arbitrary questions of object whereabouts.
Where did I leave my belt?
Have you seen my wallet?
Ahhh, where is my heart?
You see…
Nobody wants the truth of me nowadays.
They fear the unveiling
of everything ugly.
Oh, but how they do want my love
My affection and my lifelong day
As long as they don’t have to pay for it.
To that I say, Shoo! Go away. I can’t cope with you in my skin. Xanny prescriptions go unfilled. My guts can’t take it anymore. Gotta accept that sometimes love goes on unrequited.
Just like bullets will never
Ever
morph into butterflies.

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2 thoughts on “Been a year of poetic dehydration.

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