Money Back Guarantee

This isn't the life I ordered.
"Item not exactly as shown":
what an understatement.

If I send this back,
do I still have to pay the shipping?
I'm pretty sure the mistake was
on the warehouse's end; not mine.

This isn't the life I ordered:
I ordered the large.
I got the small.

I'm twenty-six years old.
My friends are getting married,
buying houses.
I have a "complicated entanglement'
and roommates.

This isn't the life I ordered.
I wanted the vibrant rainbow,
but you sent me the earth tones.

I make an hourly wage
that barely feeds my cats.
I haven't done laundry in a month,
but I guess this shirt smells clean enough.

This isn't the life I ordered.
I asked for the portable version,
and you gave me the stationary model.

I can't get out of the city
to clear my head
as my mode of transportation
is a second-hand bike whose brakes
don't work when they're wet.

This isn't the life I ordered.
I wanted the compatible extension,
but I received the individual model.

I fantasize about someday
loving someone
who loves me back.

This isn't the life I ordered.
I want my money back.

Alone in Your Bed

I fantasize about freeing myself
from this love you don't share
while you breathe gently,
deeply,
next to me, with your
arm draped over me,
so casually affectionate in your
slumber.

Stroking your hair, I whisper
my "I love you"s,
alone in my heart,
with you in your bed.

Shame

I told the world every day
just how fucking happy I was,
and I went home to my empty bed
- or sometimes my lover's;
does it make a difference when they don't
actually love you? -
and cried in miserable loneliness.

I was so ashamed of my loneliness,
and at the same time
ashamed of my shame;
is this not simply human?
To want to be wanted
- and needed -
to fill our caves with bodies
that keep out the cold night?