what, if not life, is poetry?

you try so hard to be just right
to fit between the sorrows
and insanity
to stave off
that bitter taste
of disappointment soup

and to think
at the very start she cried
“I won’t measure up”
while measuring him up
and knowing full well
she would die
to take him on
...at least for size

and he’ll scribe
into her mind
it is a spiritual thing
merely needing
the right environment
upon which to set
itself free

and so they’ll embark
on a very short journey
set between the shadows
of each others distant lives
where in the middle
of the beginning
of the end
he’ll say
thanks for the effort
ha ha
good-bye
sweet disappointment

and she’ll be reminded
in a bed of her own problem
upon which he liked for her
to be fed
she wasn’t f***ing right


© 2006 sara coslett