poem: all this is [now] redundant

everytime i hear footsteps

i think it is

[him]

but i look up and of course i am wrong

he does not belong

to me [anymore]

so why am i waiting for him to come back to me.

there is too much grey in tiled hearts i am

just bored

i am a female anomaly and he is [already] gone let’s just

make that fact, please

i will take my place in the hallway and the anti-chamber.

i will watch you in the center of the crowd

and count your footsteps as pocket change or social security:

pretty and intellectual but emotionally stupid.

like i said: i

am [bored]