Voyeur

cold rain to slow-streak the glass I watch you through - you and your christ ... the ginger bread man, sugar daddy savior, all that I was not, (and less) ... choices of compromise, to provide the lifeblood of your "needs" ... you, admiring your bullion reflection in a shimmering bottle of Armand de Brignac, smiling for your 'badder' half - a manufactured laugh for the fools about who find your pout a bit too pretentious, conscientious that the pear-shaped D/flawless Winston that tickles thy freckled cleavage, speaks as loud as the painted bows above, my dear love, (once) ... now I'm just a jester, the crowning kid of skid row, and you'll never know I eyed your trim - spied you with him, picking a bone in the bistro I used to own, with Sir Steadfast, but alone - so aptly and achingly alone ... extrovert of extroverts, yet you're EVER unattended ... even 'friended' to the max, 'midst stacks of your fairest fans, (and man), your loneliness strangles - dangled on a fraying rope of hope ... a wish that life holds more than your this ... my station now mended, I've ended my peerless peering, time for steering my Wal-Mart cart to that toxic box under the bridge, the fridge that I call home ... I turn and push, warmed by the squeak-squeak music of the wheels, makes me feel all warm inside ... I chuckle out loud when I think of you and your scarecrow-on- a-cross, all warm ... inside ... I spin my buggy 'round, just digging the sound, and the thought now searing my marrow - oh, such delight, the slings and arrows! now I'm back outside your restaurant, you and "he" are on task - Baked Alaska flaming sweetly, so I neatly ball my fist and ... SLAM! BAM! CRASH!! with a flash, (and the wryest smile - not used in a while), the glass is shattered, as I'm Mad Hattered in my lovely Goodwill coat and weeping wrists - stormy mists and sad patter of the reddened rain ... now, just a bloody stain upon your pretty pair, (a bonus - my onus) I don't look up to meet your startled stares ... but stoop to pick a shard, and pocket it with utmost care ... at least my chest thrums, I muse - you ... have not heart enough to share this broken window's pain. Entered on August 26, 2021 To the "August 2021 N/A's" Poetry Contest Constance LaFrance, Judge & Sponsor N/A'd in the "A - - Your Pick" Contest Finalized August 8, 2021