Imogene’s Notebook
Unbecoming
A Poem
Do you wonder
who you truly are? How you
became this person
when you’re alone with your thoughts
in your tiny, old apartment
that smells of caramelized onion
and disappointment?
When it’s three am and
the wallpaper peeling off the wall becomes
a poetic ode to the passage of time.
Bathed in the silver sliver of moonlight
through the window, you glow.
You are wearing pearls,
cool against your warm and pale skin.
Your temples are throbbing
with a headache.
And you know in your bones
you’re not the woman who laughed hard
this morning at another stupid joke
that wasn’t even funny.
You’re not the gal who sat through 9 to 6
at the desk sorting papers that
no one cares about.
You’re not the lady
in a black dress and stilettos
who bought red wine and string cheese,
cooked paella from scratch
which now sits untouched in the fridge.
You scream like you’ve been shot;
something is dead.
You’re done swallowing
the sugar pills of polite lies
this society peddles to you at every step.
What a waste of breath!
Just like the date who ghosted you.
© 5th January 2024. All Rights Reserved. Anushree Bose
