I Never Liked Gold

the picket fence outside the door

is lined in golden rings.

Ones of copper, silver, and brass beginnings

turned to such colors in the rain.

 

 

and in this place,

she's beside herself,

linked with one arm forward,

nothing but wind supporting her weight

when apathetically,

she stumbles from the bedpost,

finding that margin her only heart to be true

and yet she hates it,

clawing herself in two

until her body aches

 

 

 

the pains they said

would never go away

can't ever go away!

She sees this morrow

and weeps on broken knees

 

 

but no one cares.

she stands on ground again,

bows her head in deep,

because no one cares.