All That Glitters Is Gold

All That Glitters Is Gold - And Other Lies We Tell

glitter covers my nose –

a bandage from a rhinoplasty i never got

as i gi_gle and sneeze

sending the glitter flying

all over my poor unsuspecting father

who couldn’t understand why I ever wanted a rhinoplasty

or straight blonde hair and ocean blue eyes

in the first place

and somehow, now, neither could i

glitter clings to a mug that now sits in my room,

next to my bed, mingling with dust dulling its shine

lost in memo_ies of perfectly roasted potatoes

in a small navy blue apartment

full of sorrow, regret, and betrayal

glitter clings to a pair of glasses that rest just above an impressive moustache

long since gone gray

on a man made of kindness and care

who was a rock for my mother

long before

she ever became mine

glitter clings to a german shepherd’s coat

in summer fields, as she runs and leaps

a little girl running in tow

her thousands of pigta_ls waving in the air behind her

catching the sun as the brunette shines dark and red

glitter shines brightest at a baby shower never held

excited anticipation, with pink and blue balloons waiting

glitter shines in the nursery that never existed

For a rose that never got to bloom

anywhere except for when i sl_ep

in the words of shakespeare or perhaps some old serbian proverb,

_or all that glisters is not gold (nor glitter indeed)

sometimes, just sometimes,

it’s shit instead

shit that we call

g

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