Not All Endings Are [happily Ever After] Poem by Amanda Saveley

I don't write anymore.
It makes me sad like this stain on my teeth
That only shows when I'm smiling.
I'm hoping that my temporary release
From the birdcage that's become my life
Will stir my muse to singing once again
The praises of my creative delight.

But I just don't know.
I'm terrified to find out,
Just in case I've become this two-bit
Rusted out never-was.

I wanted to be a slam poet,
Nay, THEE slam poet,
Inspiring and aspiring people with my tongue
In ways that prostitutes only dream
An intellectual sexual experience
That would blow minds
In more ways than one.

Instead,
I'm a slave to my own misery,
Whoring out any advice I can give
In exchange for just a second of peace of mind
And the feeling like I'm really truly loved.
You can't appreciate me,
Nor do you ever really respect me.
Instead of taking the gem I used to be,
And holding me up to the sun where I could shine for you,
You buried me in the dirt.

That’s where I’ve been,
Waiting for someone to pick me up,
Clean me off,
And find the real value within me
That I can’t even assess anymore.
Would it be you?
Or are you too far lost in the mud
To remember where you left me?

I want to listen to love songs
And think the thought so delicate
“That’s me.”
Instead I’ve got this thought
That I “should be loved by you”
If only you didn’t have “growing up to do”
We wouldn’t be “slow dancing in a burning room.”
And I hate it.
And I want to cry over it.
But this well is dry
And that’s what concerns me most of all.
Because when you’re so worn out you can’t even cry
Then it’s over.

Really. Truly. Over.