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Listen

I’m tired of her

I’m tired of hearing her

I’m tired of seeing her

 

Since she’s on her way to good health

or on her way to not-so-bad health

 

Her complaining and her refusals

are symptoms of a petulant child

I have no patience for

 

Since she’s going anyway

I wish her gone already

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So

he’ll be leaving soon

when he’s been gone

all along.

 

For a flash of a second, someone turned the blaring overhead lights on when I had painstakingly taken measures to make sure the room was dim.

 

Low lighting hides all flaws or at the very least, softens them. What’s seen in starkness is garish but undeniably true. I only meant for him to take refuge in the illusion. But.

 

One can’t un-see what they have seen.

SOB with me

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