Lamentations of a Muse

I don’t look wonderful tonight; don’t
sugarcoat it. There’s a thread
hanging from the hem of this dress
and there are no scissors to be found
anywhere in this goddamn house
and I just may resort to using your
toenail clippers to deal with it as you
stand by the door, making vague huffy
sounds and fussing with the car keys,

the ones I’ll have to get you to surrender
by the end of this interminably long night
when you’re lolling in the passenger seat
complaining of your aching head while
simultaneously going on about the love
light in my eyes or whatever. I’ll have to
take off your shoes and position one of the
stainless steel mixing bowls next to the bed
as you sputter and blubber like an English
bulldog. And the wonder of it all is that you
just don’t realize how much I love you.

One response to “Lamentations of a Muse

  1. Wonderful imagery and candor here. I’d much rather hear this than a sappy, cliche love poem. Thanks for sharing!

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