I love me.

I just don't think
Anyone else does.

I love me.

Ten minutes ago,
I looked fabulous.

My hair was so pretty
And neat.
Not wetted down
with sweat from the top of my head
to the *****
Of my feet.

Ten minutes ago
I looked fabulous.
Even though traffic
Was angry and tight
The AC cooled my face and
My eyes
On my drive to here.
My thighs were not chaffing
And my underarms were dry.

Ten minutes ago
I looked fabulous.
My linen suit was pressed.
I was so pleased
With how I dressed.
Now ignore the wrinkles
That plague my skirt.
I will not cry
Nor look hurt.

Ten minutes ago
I looked fabulous.
My answers memorized.
My potential on the brink
Of being realized.
I was not rushing and
Falling up steps.

Ten minutes ago
I looked fabulous.

Sometimes

I wish I was Brando

To be the best

At being

Anyone
.....else.

I feel it, I feel it to my core

I feel it, an empath to my bones

I feel it, not sure where to go

I feel it, the pain I know is real

I feel it, I know down deep that this is time last spent

I feel it, I want to fight it, but to what end?

I feel it, is it worth it?

This is my life, is it worth it?

Does my life justify the fight?

The demise is imminent, is it worth the fight?

The collapse is assured, if I give up, will it be alright?

Oh, America the promise, what has become of us?

No longer I pledge, my country ‘tis of thee

I feel it, as I watch the destruction of liberty

I feel it, the collapse of the “great experiment,” so they say

I feel it, the genocide and slavery of which we were born

Were we ever really different than those who came before?

We tell ourselves lies to keep from confronting  the horror we inflict

I feel it, the hate, the racism, the treatment of people born brown

I feel it, powerless to inspire, to change, to resurrect common ground

I feel it, but what does that even mean anymore?

Pretty Little Cup Cake Store:
I walk through the door.
Somehow I think it will
Cheer me up.
A white iced-pink sprinkled cupcake
Will help me forget.
While unwrapping the trendy black and  baby blue doted baking paper
Will bring back the past again.

But, even I know it is a ruse
A joke I play on myself.
You know the owners are some super hot soccer moms whose family invested in their latest project.
Those **** bakers with pretty white aprons
And size two retro-pink waitress uniforms;
Smiling and cooing at the lavender infused cake
That makes this treat go down so smooth.
A gluten-free icing with a garnish of kumquat.
This will land their pictures on the local news.

I am not a size two.
I will just as soon eat a nutty-buddy by Little Debbie
But, this trendy cupcake cafe, makes me feel I am one of those
Pretty ladies in the retro pink waitress uniform.
Kinda like a celebration, for a party of one.

I am not a hot pretty stick chick
I will buy four, five or six of those pretty cupcakes.
Pretending I am buying a hostess gift.
But, the truth.....
My husband forgot that we married
8 years ago this day.
I will pay too much for too little product: but the cake box is cute
I will sit in my car
Eating, till my teeth hurt.
I will rationalize; that I will cleanse tomorrow.

I will go home.
He will ask how I am, while staring at the TV.
"Shussh" he will say, "I'm trying to hear."
There is no use to remind him
He will play the tired "I'm-in-the-dog-house game."
I prefer stuffing four, five or six pretty little cupcakes
Into my mouth then listening
To his tired apologies, weak little lies and false promises of a planned
Surprise.
Instead; I will go to my room; then my private bath:
I will stick my fingers down my throat
And cough up my life.