poem: clichés at nineteen

the light shifted grey down over

her face

she did not put herself into

crying she just

sat on her bed and laughed at the irony

of it all. that

nothing had really changed

that

her only romance was

chemical (the dopamine he triggered

in her psychotic ticking

brain). she’s over him now,

anyway. let the

poetry stand as witness to this

because apparently

he had a girlfriend this entire time

and apparently he was

better in verse than in real life.

she sits alone and misses

what he represented there is

glory and shadow in all

of it, all this time

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