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.