Things That Aren't Help

A Poem by Fee Thomas

Fruitless words meaning nothing dangled in front of me like a flag of freedom knowing no liberation
Exasperated sighs lingering in my ears while you ride your stallion through the countryside
Plans to architecture I have no way of climbing while you sit comfortably on the top floor drinking your gin
An estimate on how high the waves will be cresting when it is well known I cannot swim
Recipes upon recipes upon recipes when I have no money for ingredients
Keys to a house I no longer live in
Advice wrapped in cellophane sailed down the river
Tiny plastic ballerinas marching to music only you can provide
Pretending, somehow the future will be better
As long as I keep going along for the ride.

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