Micropoetry Monday: Love Story

Sepia heart

Martin was into building blocks,
Mary, dollhouses.
He liked to build homes,
she liked to decorate them.
When a bulldozer named Suzie—
a wannabe homewrecker—
came along,
she was bested by these newlyweds,
for when they’d gotten married,
they had thrown away the receipt.

When she looked across the table—
over candlelight & roses
& dinner for 2—
she wasn’t reminded of why she’d said yes
but rather,
why she’d continued to say it.

He was a comedy of manners,
she, a comedy of errors.
When they fell in love,
going so far as to do
that nauseating heart thing
with their hands at sunset
(becoming an Instagram cliche),
she realized she’d taught him how to lighten up,
to not be afraid of putting off others
for not being a put-on,
even as he’d taught her how to apply a little polish—
not to cover up who she was,
but to reveal the wonderful woman she was
underneath the social awkwardness
that she had learned,
out of necessity,
to embrace.

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