Don’t think I don’t care about you, darling,
I’ll just always be married to death.
I can’t imagine a greater feeling or thrill
than attending your own funeral.
I long for that eeriness more than love.
“Show me the city.” I said to her.
She smiled and grabbed my hand.
“I’m ready to be spontaneous.”
“I’m the one to be spontaneous with.” she winked.
I bought a ukulele, just for the hell of it,
at an old Spanish music store.
What would I do if the strings broke?
I didn’t care.
I didn’t want to fly back home with it.
I also didn’t want to leave it for her.
She already had one.
I’ll guess I’ll have to live here
because of the ukulele – not her.
Robbie Masso is a twenty-year old poet and artist from New Jersey. He has work published on Spillwords.com (Spillwords.com/author/robbie-masso) and has further work on his social media (Facebook: Poetry by Robbie Masso, Instagram: @robbiemasso).