Our Poems

The poems
that I write about you are cheesy
You are every one of those clichés,
every love song...
It was all written for us.

Happy

They tell me that it is
not a sprint,
but a
  m  a  r  a  t  h  o  n
They love to
explain
exactly
how
to
do
it.

So,
I have.
I’ve run the mile,
taken my pills,
slept like I'm supposed to,
and tapped my twice heels to come home.

Only,
I can’t remember what I’m returning to.
Did I pass the test? Am I happy, yet?

I feel something like it some days, I think?
Talked to some friends - check
Wrote a nice story - check
Read my favorite book- check
checkcheckcheck
I’m filling in the bubbles
on my scantron, colors still muted blue.

And I supposed to see something brighter?