We've accommodated misery, learning to walk over shards of shattered dreams. Separate planets, our orbits never cross, yet we exist in the same galaxy, sit in the same room with nothing to say. Public deception, personal rejection, the love story has reached its final chapter. Expiration date ignored, the sweetness of yesterday now bitter on my tongue.

Our 'used --to-be' surrendered to 'never-gonna-happen'. Stagnant hope grows mold. Robotic survival. No strength to say goodbye. No purpose-- unseen sunsets--muted harmonies. Practicality has imprisoned me--laundry--cooking--eating and surviving. He doesn't beat me--I should be grateful--but I'm not. My fault. He says so, and why wouldn't I believe him? After all, he loved me once.

withered flower droops
surrenders to rain-soaked soil
waste management