A slight insecurity,
or should I say susceptibility to
Feelings of inadequacy,
driven home by the perfect glass slippers
Sliding onto the feet of
A thousand silicone cinderellas
Sitting next to, circumventing,
Lonely, lone, alone, loner
Of only fifteen years young.
Manifested in proficiency of drinking
Keystone Light and
Straight shots of vodka, no chaser please.
Black out, Brown out, Blue out
Me and you go out.
I laugh, you smile
We separate, glances exchanged
Together again, your hand, my waist
Flash to a first cigarette
Drag of burning
I picture myself a dragon
Breathing fire into
My life as
Cinderella the maid, waiting for
In a lacrosse jersey with an endless supply of
Of which I will never forget the taste.
Longing, loneliness, lust leads to
Groping furiously in the grass
They say get a room,
And so we do;
The story goes on from there,
As most sad stories do.
And all I see in the review mirror on the way home
Is another lonely princess
Morphed into a statistic.