Woman in the Mirror.

I’m mad at god.

I want to cuss out the devil.

I’m not speaking to destiny,

and I blocked fate. 

Convinced I have bad luck, 

and I’m half woman, half hate. 

I’m on a highway,

could be to heaven, or straight to hell. 

I’m having a hard time forgiving myself.

So, I dwell.

–S.

Population: 1.5

We’re almost a ghost town.

There’s a chair on the side of the main road,

and glass shattered all over the ground.

The post office is boarded up,

and there’s nobody around.

There’s graffiti on the elementary school,

I wish you’d at least been cruel.

But we faded out like high-school football stars, neon-lit bars, and lightning bugs.

The love decayed over time like teeth do with drugs.

–S.

Mad is easier.

I’m mad that you’re right.

I’m mad that I’m wrong.

I’m mad that I’m sad.

I’m mad that you ruined my favorite song.

I’m mad that it’s all taking so long.

I’m mad that I zigged when I should’ve zagged.

I’m mad that I bobbed when I should’ve weaved.

I’m mad that I still believe.

I’m mad at her,

and at him,

and the moles all over my skin.

I’m mad at mother nature,

and father time.

I’m mad that none of it is mine.

–S.

Do you want to go to the movies?

Ask for butter on the popcorn.

Choose the middle seats.

Grab your favorite candy.

They’re playing the movie of you and me,

and who we used to be.

When they roll the credits,

I will finally see:

we’re through the thick of it,

past the messy middle,

and at the very end of we.

We’ll throw out the trash.

We’ll say our goodbyes.

We’ll get into separate cars.

Wave one last time as we drive by.

-S.

Imaginary Wall.

We pass like ships at sea.

A keeper of day.

A keeper of night.

Are you okay?

I don’t know if you’re alright.

We pass like ships at sea.

We don’t touch,

or talk.

We barely interact at all.

I think there’s an imaginary wall.

-S.

Keeper of Secrets.

I am the keeper of your secrets.

I am the one that knows why you laugh,

and why you cry.

I am the one that knows why they left you,

and why they said goodbye.

I am the one that knows what eats you up at night.

I am the one, like a torch, that carries the light.

I am the one that knows about your mother,

your brother,

that guy you like,

and why you haven’t finished school.

Like high school,

you no longer think I’m cool.

-S.