Pocket Life

I’m his pocket girlfriend.

He keeps me there.

The secret that has been shoved

Down into the crevices deep

With the lint, half a piece of gum,

And some old receipts.

He’ll reach in sometimes.

Fingers me when no one is looking.

Pets my head and whispers, 

“Good girl.”

I’m his fidget spinner.

Pulls me out to pass the lonely times.

Spins me around and around

And around

Until I am completely dizzy.

Not sure if I am coming

Or going

Or being loved

Or being just a

Silly play thing.

It can be lonely in here.

Muffled voices outside.

A family life.

And I am waiting in the dark

For my turn.

My day of being held in the light.

Lying to myself.

Telling myself, 

"He just might."

Right?

I’m the secret worth keeping.

I’m the lie worth concealing.

I am the drugs in his jeans.

Reviews

[Carlos Lorenzo Estrada]

It is the absolute worst being treated like this. To be used in such a way. It has destroyed many a good person when they are devalued in such ways. To the point where they lose their humanity and only are seen as a thing of possession. A very eye opening and sorrowful poem that speaks with great truth behind it. Thank you A.B for sharing your work.

[Nebula]

This is not a life.
The girl should say s**t to this poor guy