“The Has-Been Girlfriend”

genre: poetry

She waits.
Wading her way
through her own pond
of waste-laid promises
and words grown green from stale.

Alive in the jungle that is her past,
lie tangled shrubs of memories
that once were.

She looks aloft
in jaded eyes–
a crowded, jumbled mind
continuously rewinds,
sanctioned or unsanctioned
by a remote, run-down reverie.

And the bathwater begins to mount,
and still she does not move to care,
lifeless cells of pruning flesh
swim about in clouded rings,
imitating anticipating
a return to grace,
return to life.

She’s the has-been girlfriend of the year
With no right nor wish to cry.
But tears consume
the chronic room
that is what’s left
of life.

She’s the has-been girlfriend of the year.
She meant something at one time.
Her broken heart pumps
viscous wine,
slows her down, she’s
losing time.

Won’t you throw away the photographs?
Burn down your molting shrine?
For love can’t be a work of art,
Try to shape it, it’ll unwind.

Oh, has-been girlfriend of the year,
what fool has strayed your way?
Unfair your fight with
ticking time,
Yes…he’ll be back one day…

At least, that’s what they say.