This Poem Isn’t About a House, by Travis Lilach

 You remind me
of this house.
A lazy, new-
modeled piece of shit.
With drafty windows
and cheap carpet.
It’s so ugly
and unloved.

It spent all its years
feeling sorry for itself.
Suitors came,
but always left.
They’ve realized you’re pretty
on the outside if maintained.
But the inside, it’s hollow and it’s gray.
Your heart is the carpet– yellow, stained

So I don’t care
if you decay.
Because I’m over you.
Your front door was loose anyway.

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