365 Days of Poetry: Day Two-Hundred and Forty-Nine

you’ll be late.
to your own funeral.
hearse caught in traffic.
coffin needing to be.
put upright, makeup.
and hair needing one.
last fix, whatever.
makes it not your fault.
you’re late, or selfish.
or stupid. I have.
tried my best to go.
along, play nice with.
your reality that.
skews all logic or.
compassion for others,
but the strain has.
always been too much.
and I am too old.
to spare any more.
of myself or time.
on someone like you.


About June Faramore

Writer of fantasy, mainstream, and young adult fiction. Poet and sketcher. Mother. I read a lot and love cheese. Guitar playing singer-songwriter. I also enjoy stepping on the cracks in the sidewalk. View all posts by June Faramore

this side, that side

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