I’ve never been very good at remaining congenial
after being left behind. Like when I was 7 and learned
my mother was cheating on my father,
or that time in high school when a girlfriend admitted
she’d kissed one of my friends at a party.
There was always a waiting behind in the bushes moment
following one of these betrayals, where, to avenge hope,
I’d end up springing on those I loved a few words that made
them flop over like the trash. Though I now know
feeling thrown away was really how I felt. What does one
do with a self-esteem that’s as rotten and buried as a dump?
Notice how the “grass grows greener” above it? Well,
we all know how looking at an upside ends up. It goes
something like despite how broken and ugly I am underneath
it’s because of my dirtiness that I can still have moments
where I’m beautiful, where I’m vibrant and tall and dance
in the wind, like a field you walk through to get to heaven.
But it’s deodorizing talk like this that’s made me want to be
sad, alone and left behind pretty much all my life.