Drugstore Perfume [Poetry]

keychain defects

keychain defects

october9twenty21

it makes me slightly sad every time, an exponential type of hollow sorrow. it seems to be a talent, finding meaning where it does not belong. where it burrows and infects.

but it still bothers me, still pokes and prods at me. I almost never hear that fall-note sound, the swooshing little tone, because I'm sooner staring at a black screen reflecting back at me. it's a collection of twinges, insignificant paraphernalia. things I would be better off ignoring or forgetting.

I do seem to do that a lot. keepsakes and trinkets and lollipop wrappers. rocks and fragments and hearts splayed out on college rule. I must have felt kinship with the broken keychains and pendants left for dead on the sidewalk. they understand me better than a lot of people.

and then I'm the last one left, and the patterns creep up to bite me unawares. it's just one big sigh after another, and then you notice you've gone and sighed all the air in your lungs out, and now you're choking. maybe it was supposed to be this way.

nobody wants broken scraps but me. nobody wants to be the last one left or the first one gone. if nobody else will do it, my feet move me forwards anyways. it's a losing battle.

it's just too many losing battles and broken keychain consolation