It didn’t take a rocket scientist to conclude that
She was going to be alone the rest of her life.
Women just stopped approaching her.
It’s not you, it’s me.
Deep within a sugar maple forest without a spigot,
She felt worthless.
Her hair was too thin;
She swore she’s not pregnant.
At a firm 24, everybody she went to school with were
Either married or having children, while she sat
Drenched in barbeque tears, a book in hand as the
Evening news chirped on a greasy laptop screen.
Everybody else was too busy to reply to her emails;
The desperate phone calls and texts weren’t enough.
Preoccupied with mediocre sex and prescription drugs,
They all frowned behind immaculate porcelain masks.
A peek within the pink dollhouse would show a different story.
Their husbands were cheating.
And might as well kiss that promotion goodbye, for
The boss was requesting a naughty tit-for-tat.
It was a cruel daydream,
A cookie-cutter life of torpedoed self-worth.
Just wade through mounds of pity and shit,
Surely there was a life in there somewhere.
It didn’t take her long to realize that
Being lonely was not as grim as it seemed.
So she finished her book and
Smiled before falling back to sleep.