The Tiger

The sometimes traumatic

and oftentimes familiar scent

of bullshit can come out of nowhere

and blindside you with a haymaker

like a fragrant bully,

whose only goal

is to rob you of the change you’ve made

during the overtime shift of life.

Dinner dates at a mutually favorite

restaurant, where you’re served

an appetizer of bullshit over conversations

about leaving the past dead in a hole.

Life makes new,

it washes clean,

except when it doesn’t.

Undercover bullshit disguised as intimacy,

masquerading around while you hold hands,

tighter,

and share kisses amongst the crowd

before sinking down.

Weaponized love,

fired like buckshot from a Remington

as you wander wounded

through luminescent fields of bullshit

in search of the safe, warm welcome

of a heart to call home.

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