The droning of impermanence muddling a head,
She hasn't gotten used to and lingers there instead.
Sitting lost in gloom she awaits the bitter end,
Worsened by reminders unable to pretend.
Like when his flimsy covers for stealing her away,
Feel like she's the booty coveted that day.
That unpleasant harshness of something being stolen,
Hearing jealous undertones of dissonance tolling.
Like a police siren that's closing in on a getaway vehicle,
Doomsday heartache scenario non reciprocal.
In the wee hours at home thinking she’s alone,
Lacking joyful sunshine exposing her forlorn.
She may be weary pondering what she has missed,
That inconsolable feeling of being second best.
That her keen emboldened independent fashion,
Is compromised by illegitimate passion.
The wind that carries away his fragile bubbles,
From dangerous places closer to her troubles.
Where bubbles have not usually stayed,
When nothing seems to be going her way.
Least he blow new ones replacing those that pop,
So irrepressible love won't have to stop.
February 10, 2021
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