I said, “You’re the cream of the crop!”
You called me your buttercup.
I milked the situation for all its worth,
As my dreams sat splendid before me.
Then, your life spilled out into the world,
And I became unwanted;
A container of spoiled passion
And curdled desires.
You dashed my hopes,
The tracks of you,
That old cow!
Copyright © Virginia Mitchell