Being alone has never been less acceptable.

Suffocating behind museum glass

           I learned all the words except if.

Childishness persists in the soul that never 

Grew beyond friendship, that uninspired blueprint.

           I deserve a life without dread.

Abandoned stairways decay in silence.

 

Crush me beneath the pulsating threat

Of some well-intentioned heart

           I don’t need a savior.

As this is just the preface to ordinary life.

 

Repulsion unrolls, consumes, buries. 

           Poetry is always about romance and sex.

Words that should delight only choke

The throat tightening with a grimace of congratulation.

           I never see myself anywhere outside my mirror.

Stench of severed flowers permeates an emptiness.

 

Stifle growth as you see fit

Mangle the body until it almost mimics absence.

           I am not half.

The enigma of contentment remains, somehow,

Despite gouged-out deficiency.

           This is not a fault.

 

I will not poison myself to avoid becoming            a stereotype.

​

​

©Kaylee Schuler