Oh, How Art Thy Mother’s Advice

Mama told me to court a doctor, for he could heal a broken heart and soothe the agonizing cracks brought on by the suitors that broke down fragile walls.

Unfortunately, he was well acquainted with the female anatomy and knew which strings to manipulate to torture my soul before leaving me empty.

Mama said it would be fine, betroth a carpenter that would design you a new heart and treat you like a dime.

I followed her recipe, but instead produced a bitter man, far from being a sweetheart, who now claimed my soul as he engineered every wall in my psyche

Mama smiled and said, " Hush, my child wed a lawyer for he can set you free from the dreadful contract with the carpenter."

I silenced my tears and did my duties, but on the wedding night, I saw his true form, for he now owned the very core of my being and made no plans to sweep me off my feet, for there had been no fairy dust beneath my heels.

Mama frowned and sighed, have an affair with an undertaker, for at least he can bury what’s left of your innocence

I obliged, for what am I now if not an empty vase with the evaporating imprint of a once enticing rose

THE BITTER POET