wine in my throat, pen in my hand, you in my vengeance

If that was love, I rather go loveless
And well, yes, I am putting this into verse
After reading my metaphoric Monday paper

Where it is printed that I was so not
The kind of guy you expected
Or ever wanted as a significant other

It is all so lame:
Me and you, the metaphores,
Stating the obvious, not being able to see the evident

Your all new look
Favoring the clothes you once said
Were reserved for desperate wannabes

Your sudden new life
I can't compare
Friends all drawn from the liberal arts

Your new boyfriend
I can't compete
His clothes are so much better than mine

Tell me if it will ever stop hurting
Tell me if I will ever forget you
Tell me if this poem will do


carson newman (Boston, MA, 1987)