Thursday, April 11, 2013

Ode to Hope

Oh hope, you false-feathered thing,
we are too intimate. You’ve been
my bedfellow far too long,
and I think it’s time for me
to meet someone new.
Really, it’s not me, it’s you.
And no, I don’t want to stay friends.
I’m done, actually.
I’m tired of you leaving me hanging
for days, even weeks at a time
only to disappear with a phone call,
an email, or the ubiquitous text message.
You’ve bailed on me one too many times.
But you always come back under the
guise of fresh starts and clean slates.
No more. There’s the door,
so use it!
And when you meet reality lugging his
suitcase in to fill the drawers I’ve emptied
of your things, don’t bother saying a word.
Because he doesn’t even know you exist.

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