Oh, the Woe Is All Mine

A Poem

Photo by Dalton Smith on Unsplash

dramatic —
that’s what you liked to call me
because I was a little too much
for all your fine sensibilities
which never cracked
under pressure

lovely —
we have ourselves a story
of sleepless nights in California
when no drug offered such a high
like the whirlwind of us together,
peppered with glitter and lies

passion —
there was our true play,
riddled with expectations
we would always disappoint
because we weren’t puppets
made for every maneuver

windfall —
that’s what you wanted,
like it would save your life
from boredom and fixation
when you were already addicted
to a life of easy pleasures and fine wine

but I was the one thing
you could shed so easily
like I was an old rag doll
that you’d outgrown —
and soon I’d be dropped off
at some lonely garbage heap