The greatest lie she gives them
Is her smile …
Until they reach the end of their road,
Where sometimes they’ll implode
Or implore her not to end it
And she’ll have to pretend it
Breaks her heart too,
When it simply isn’t true.
She is weary with waiting for a magic that doesn’t exist,
For, you see, she missed
The bit before time started
When the heavens should have imparted
An innate need for another half.
The stars can but laugh
As she stops trying to leave the shelf,
Bubbling over with a hate for herself
Unrivalled, by any of her life’s other tribulations.
And now the relations
Will ask …
What about that nice man?
With the good job? And the life plan?
He seemed so paper perfect …
Wasn’t he worth it?
Tick tock, my love!
I don’t want to worry you
But if you don’t hurry you’ll
Not catch another
For a lover is all well and good,
But a husband is the goal!
And she can do nothing but roll her eyes
And reassure them that
There are plenty more fish
For this washed up old dish.
This old maid,
Unafraid now of a life lived alone,
Is busy enough on her own,
At last content to send away the paper princes
And, with defiance, finally convinces herself
That it’s not fair to drag the boys along
For a ride with Miss Wrong.
They deserve better.
They deserve her truth.
And so does she.