by PAULA

You don’t get to trample
over me
like some bodacious water buffalo
in heat.
It’s never that deep
try to keep up, sweetheart
lingering around like secondhand
smoke
now you’re behind my second-to-last
option
given the choice
you don’t get to come around like
everything’s fine
finally moving on for myself. No
static in my room anymore
But you walked back in like
you were on Dancing with the Stars
you fell from my heavens a
while ago, burned
in the atmosphere
But it was I who
couldn’t handle the pressure
still can’t. All
caught up in my concerto
sweltering beneath stage lights
you don’t get to cheer at the end
It’s not your show anymore.