Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Not an Item.

I don’t know where exactly

I crossed the line

Before the reason and the rhyme

Ceased their synchronization

With two at the time—

All I know is

I lost myself in the cost

Of letting go

And finally being found

Standing up from the ground.

I was always your couch

To relax with when the day was done

And loneliness called your name--

But your routine never changed

Regardless of how worn I became.

Couches aren’t always new,

And I had lost my zest

Just like all your rest.

Just like all the other blondes, red heads and brunettes.

Like all the other 7’s in your chest.

I was a thrifty couch of insecurity—

Covered by a blanket of your mediocrity;

.I was never really the problem, plan or solution.

Just a temporary fix for all that your curtains envisioned.

But I’m not your decorative item,

Worthy of gaze and speculation,

And I'm not your best seven.

I'm not your vision of beauty, darling--

I’m a real-life human being.

Walking off your ‘collectibles’ shelf was the best choice I have ever made.

I can’t wait to never go back.


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