Unextraordinary

I could have accepted

not spending my entire life

with my first love.

Though, I assumed they

would be far more

extraordinary

than you.

Not this embellishment

of predictability.

A man double my senior

but acts younger than

twenty.

Greedy.

Inconsiderate. A man

who pretends to be

a feminist but

perfectly embodies

narcissism.

Intelligent, but not kind.

So sure of his one-track

mind. He thinks he is

original. But I could have fallen

for any one of his doubles.

I cannot even recall

what first drew me to him.

The words of my beginning

poems. How they sound

so foreign.

I wanted my first love

to be extraordinary.

A beautiful story. A

marbled memory of

emotion and passion.

But this narrative is nothing

to savour. It has a sour

flavour. And murky

colours. The protagonist

an antagonist. And

somebody else’s lover.

Guilty and ashamed.

Not proud of its name.

Though this story

is unextraordinary,

it is one that I will tell.

Oh, what a shame

you will not even do

the same.