College roommates- one with a wedding ring and the other, a salary- meet for a drink,
Merritt Parkway, Connecticut, "This is positively the last one for me!" Two at the brink.
The housewife gossips away, laughs in a way of self-pity, as the ether sinks into her veins,
All the while, poison invades her brain, convincing her there are no consequential pains.
She wears her mask, her high class, ignores the daughter wearing unattractive glasses,
Hates the innocence, but cannot recall her own, because when asked about her past, she passes.
The man who brought her smiles hundreds of miles away died along with her genuine laughter,
The other man whom she married, she regretted before the ceremony, not after.
It was as if nostalgia had been stored up in the bottle, up to the last drop,
Reality stabs her chest as she realizes her best could be no more than a sop.
Her heart like New York has long since turned as cold as ice,
Tears roll down her cheeks, witness to a murder, the death of nice.
And this tragedy happened because she did not seek joy,
The man who died was her imaginary boy.
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i wrote this poem two years ago for my contemporary literature class
during senior year of high school. this post is strictly for documentation
purposes. i've got a lot of old papers lying around that i should burn.
