THE END

this is not an ode to you.
but to the lipsticks you switched with cigarettes
to the sweet scent of bitter regret that seemed to ooze from your sunday mornings
to the crumpled hundred dollar bills that tumble carelessly from your splayed fingers

CHAPTER 67

this is not an ode to you.
but to your toxic obsession with unprescribed prozacs
just to get that chemical high
to your overbearing addiction for aphrodisiacs
to the side effects left in limbo on unread danger labels

CHAPTER ONE

this is not an ode to you.
but to the powdery whites and persistent lights
smudged with charcoal on jilted canvases
to the threat of unnamed syndromes that plague your monday evenings
to the hearts you plundered and the souls you bludgeoned
forgetting how hauntingly fragile they are

PROLOGUE

this is not an ode to you.
but to our vignettes that weren't the hollow promise of a bittersweet forever
rather the guilty reminder of heartburns forgone

EPIGRAPH

this is not an ode to you.

"You have been diagnosed with severe clinical depression."

"... It's just the blues"