Trash.

How I'm feeling lately.

Trash.

A world where fairytales are more viable

than a paycheck, click-bate swaddle me

in lies so I can tell my “friends” all about

serial killer candy. Anti-vaccine harpies

singing red lipstick lullabies for pro-life

ash Wednesday Daddies, hear them?

A place where you are disposable,

to family, friends, you do not exist

outside the shiplap, tufted pillow couture -

out the door you go, who are you again?

Champagne dreams on beer budget

worthless, without a trick to offer.

Circus girl, Shakespearean tramp,

they do not wish to make an effort.

When you’re gone, you’re gone.

You were soulmates, love at first site,

can’t breathe without you - kind of desperation,

but step onto a plane, and you die.

Peel off my skin and fashion leather for

shoes to walk to me, as to not cut your delicate

toes, but I am not the color of summer and

you were hoping for someone, thinner, prettier

more presentable. Keep me in the dark and kiss me,

but outside I am your hatred, sun-soaked disappointment.

You used to tell me secrets, now your lies choke you up,

tears stain the starch on your shirt and you curse me 

for the extra 50 cents it will cost at the cleaner.

I am the change in your closet, discarded, forgotten.

The rot in Tupperware in your fridge.

I am everything and nothing, but I guarantee

In your coffin, my darling, you’ll dream about me. 

M.R.