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Threadbare Romance:

Narrative Poem

Threadbare Romance:
Photo by Philipp Lansing on Unsplash

In her adolescence,

he was her confidant

Nervously,

she run up to him,

shouting pocket buddy!

A soda pop,

became a fountain,

He took his over-shirt off,

as he stood guard,

at the bathroom door...

In the honey-moon phase,

he put his fingertips,

inside

her size zero hoodie...

While expecting,

she cried, “nothing fits!”

staring herself down,

zip-up front sweater,

clicks, tick-tick

unable to close...

He took her,

shopping for a pull over hoodie

“Problem solved” he said confidentiality..

Rubbing her pregnancy

belly happily—

Cleaning out her closet,

Swish

his favorite gray hoodie,

in a bag to donate...

The Jersey knit,

unraveled before her eyes

the young mother,

found herself,

in a threadbare romance...

The only,

fingers tucked in her pockets

now

shouts, “ mom!”

The lovers, became estranged

The first sighting of him,

slouch over a bench seat,

Swoosh

goes his hood overhead...

drawing in the the strings,

TRYING

his best

NOT

to be seen...

The Jersey knit,

unraveled before her eyes-

Maturing mother,

found herself,

in a threadbare ill-fated romance...

In her adolescence,

he was her confidant

Nervously,

she run up to him,

shouting pocket buddy!

A soda pop,

became a fountain,

He took his over-shirt off,

as he stood guard,

at the bathroom door...

In the honey-moon phase,

he put his fingertips,

inside

her size zero hoodie...

While expecting,

she cried, “nothing fits!”

staring herself down,

zip-up front sweater,

clicks, tick-tick

unable to close...

He took her,

shopping for a pull over hoodie

“Problem solved” he said confidentiality..

Rubbing her pregnancy

belly happily—

Cleaning out her closet,

Swish

his favorite gray hoodie,

in a bag to donate...

The Jersey knit,

unraveled before her eyes

the young mother,

found herself,

in a threadbare romance...

The only,

fingers tucked in her pockets

now

shouts, “ mom!“

The lovers, became estranged

The first sighting of him,

slouch over a bench seat,

Swoosh

goes his hood overhead...

drawing in the the strings,

TRYING

his best

NOT

to be seen...

sad poetry
Saroyan Coles
Saroyan Coles
Read next: Poem: New Life
Saroyan Coles

I want to empower others with my writing. I have always dreamed of seeing my name, on something.

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