I wrote this poem while at work, simply to use the various words I had up on the wall as inspiration but never did use. There are some words that I can no longer remember the meaning of...
But I love the way they all sound nonetheless.
I had the Chutzpah to Wash Myself Free of Her
It was pure and utter serendipity.
The first time I saw her,
She had all the panache of a Victoria’s Secret runway model.
It was in a department store.
She was standing still.
Achingly so, like all the world couldn’t have inspired a movement.
I stepped closer.
‘COWABUNGA!’
I knew our relationship could only be quixotic.
In a few weeks I took her home.
Our life together was a labyrinth,
Bamboozled by my idealistic dreams
And her ataraxic nature.
She always smelled of fresh laundry.
And I, of petrichor.
But our shenanigans were fairly transient.
She was acting ridiculous and I,
Was pernicious to her health.
And so I,
In a lackadaisical moment,
Left her standing out by the door.
Where she haunts me every day
In her ephemeral beauty.
Her pizzazz fading with the days,
Weeks, months, years.
Saudade.
Saudade.
Saudade.
Our time together lingers,
Festers,
Obfuscates.
My current quandary
A riptide through my being.
This vermicious pain is quintessential.
But it’s such a buzzkill.
Her body is now a palimpsest.
Rust, leaves, metal, vines.
Green, white, brown.
Her pulchritude even more irresistible.
Only she could smell fresher than laundry.
Saudade.
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And now if you are wondering who she is, as so many people have, I present to you, her:
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