“Cupid made me do it”

I sat there for hours.

More than four.

Festering like an expired jar of jam

forgotten in the fridge,

undesired for too long.

Within four hours,

I bought the benefit of the doubt—not with Benjamins,

but in teenage years.

My nineteenth, to be exact.

Expensive enough

to fracture the future.

Little did I know.

After eight hours,

pity dissolved itself.

Innocence too.

I think she caught an early flight home.

The girl who remained

on that awful green couch—

maybe it was a futon—

was someone I didn’t recognize.

She was vigilant and vile.

Something sinister had been provoked.

Unhinged.

By the time the sun said goodnight,

I strangled Cupid,

pulled the arrows from my neck

and fired them back.

A black bass guitar

I split in half

before throwing it into the five-foot snow

that buried the house alive,

sealing me in

like a betta fish drifting to the bottom.

It was joined by an Xbox,

ski boots,

and other precious belongings

that did not include my heart.

By the time he returned,

we were holding a yard sale

for Jack Frost.

I thank that little fat cherub for the bra I fill today…..

screwed up half a lifetime to make a woman out of me.