Feathers & Buttons: Day Three of a Poem a Day

Today’s prompt is:

“Write a poem that is really a love letter to an old flame. To make sure it doesn’t slip into sappy, make sure one or more of these words are in the poem: politician, nuclear, dung beetle, exoskeleton.”

northern-lights

We used to compare our love to aurora borealis.
(We said it was a naturally occurring phenomenon.
We called it beautiful, but then I saw the truth.)

We used to compare our passion to an explosion
of light in the sky. (Something real, something tangible.
But now, I don’t know what it was.)

We used to go for walks on cool, summer nights
and drink Coke-a-Cola from bottles.
(It felt like nostalgia even when it was happening.)

But then, I found your exoskeleton was like that
of a dung beetle.
You were as likely as to forgive as a politician
were to tell the truth.
(Your blood ran as cold as ice.)

It wasn’t love. It was dancing through a mine field
(cautious to where our feet fell).
I often felt like Alice in Wonderland.
Sometimes, I wondered if I made it all up.

The feathers you sent me in the mail
(did I collect those myself?).
The phone calls back and forth each night
(was I just talking to myself?).
The horror films with bad dubbing
(was I sitting in an empty room,
watching a blank screen?).

It all feels so long ago.

We believed it to be aurora borealis.
We believed it to be magical,
but really it was dancing through a mine field.
But really your exoskeleton was like that of a dung beetle.
You were as likely to forgive as a politician were to tell the truth.
Your blood ran as cold as ice.

{Your Ex-Lover is Dead by Stars}

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