a spill by LauraAnnSwift

Faux Red Rose

Tonight I choose to be in love.
Tomorrow morning I will be back to monotony.
If I am the one with the slapstick, placing the skins before I tread forward, then I am choosing when to fall into my fate.
Like the sleazy guy at the bar who falls in love with a different prostitute every night; I choose to be the person I am.

The time is 11:00am.
This morning, I was waiting for the bus as I do everyday day.
The direction may be different, but the transportation always the same.
The time is 11:02am.
The bus stops at my feet and I look up towards the advertisement on the side; another generic love story with The tag line “you can't help who you fall for.”
Now I don't give this a second thought until a lady behind me steps up onto the bus and sighs loudly so her friend has no choice but to ask;
“What's wrong?”
You know the kind of sigh I'm talking about; the kind of sigh that is deliberately blown your way. The kind of sigh that either a) you have to respond to and listen or b) you can ignore but will labelled a bad friend.
Now take your pick. Personally, after hearing this lady talk on I would have looked at her, blinked unresponsively then walked in the opposite direction.
But that's just me. I'm a bad friend.
The kind of friend that passes up hanging out to go and hand out red roses to any lucky somebody that walks my way.
Today is her lucky day, she walks by me and sits in the seat behind me. Unfortunately, she won't be getting one of my faux hand picked gifts.
“It just frustrates me when I see the phrase 'you can't help who you fall for'. It's offensive to everything I believe in.”
Oh do please go on. What she doesn't know is that she's about to offend me and my drive-by love attitude.

Read the entire poem HERE

(C) Laura Swift

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