the oppression

You tell me what you want for dinner and I feel nothing but relief. Thank God I don’t have to make that decision again today. The heavy weight of adulthood is a deathly oppression. There’s a chance of heavy storms in the forecast, and one can only be pushed so far, little dove, before they’ll fall from the sky.

I have no illusions of forever. My forever should have started twenty years ago, instead it ended right when it was picking up speed. I’ve learned since that all I am is someone’s missing piece. I’m what they use to fill the holes where the things they actually wanted used to be. But you won’t fuck me in a pantry. You won’t finger me in an elevator. You’re not my missing piece. There’s no way my luck could be that bad.

Today’s poem prompt words were: forecast, missing piece, and pantry.

_{Photo by Tony Litvyak on Unsplash}