Squinting into stillborn dark,
I spy a spreading sleeping sickness,
slowly suffocating the life out of me.
An invisible gas, it engulfs me, seeps in
through my porous mind drip by drop by drip.
     L is for lackluster, lacking life, limited use.

Rolling out of bed, I hit the floor,
eyes enlarged, skin shocked and shriveled
by sting of another morning, more of same.
Mouth agape, I must don my armor of protection,
smell my coffee and numb this feeling of obsolete.
     O is for obtuse, out of fashion, over and done.

Crying as I pick out inadequate clothes,
I know it really doesn’t matter what I wear
’cause I’m not going anywhere. Picked last or
picked and put out with the trash, I opt to opt out,
relinquishing hope of finding some place to belong.
     N is for nevermind, not needed, non-entity.

Observing flecks of falling flakes,
I think of how you think it’s all so easy
and I’m so lucky because nobody wants me
to be their one and only or even their just this once
upon a time. A happy couple waltzes by; why is it
     E is for everybody loves somebody else?

Caressing a ring of keys as if it were
the symbol of a promise that everything
will be alright, I imagine where I’d go if I could.
But I never move from the kitchen table. Staring far
into nothing, I shrink again, becoming who you said I was.
     L is for lilting, leaving, languishing in despair.  

Composing poems in my head, hoping
to avoid shadows lengthening, I try and try again
to write you out of my life to no avail. Even this
messy alphabet soup of a poem is flavored with you.
Spice it up, pare it down, stir it any way you please,
     Y is for spinning yarns, yesterday and you.