Paper Cup

Paper Cup

s.b.m.

2:03 am

6.02.15

You are a paper cup, ya know, the ones with the

blue and orange fish and the big black eyes

that swim in the indigo ocean? Yes,

you are flimsy and vulnerable. And I need you

as much as I need to let water rinse out the foamy

toothpaste from my freshened mouth. It’s funny

because I always seem to use them for as long

as I possibly can, until the bottom curves outwards

and water droplets seep through, ruining

its purpose, why I need it so bad. You see, I

don’t want to keep switching from paper cup

to paper cup because it’s a hassle, it’s a minor

task that I deem daunting and I hate to waste

these paper cups, though they are so fucking

cheap. Do you get it yet? You are a paper cup,

the one with the cobalt blue and fiery orange

fish on it. And you are bottoming out,

as your flaws and lies and half-assed efforts

bleed from every side of the now damaged circle.

I am forced to throw you into the garbage

next to the snot filled Kleenex and used Q-tips,

but I am okay, I will be alright, because I know

that there are plenty more in the box underneath

the cupboard. And with hope bubbling over me

like a just opened bottle of champagne, I believe

that you are not all the same, sharing the identical

fate of bottoming out and becoming useless.