like ornaments hung on the tree
shiny and admired
brightening the gloomy days of winter
bringing life to those disposed
before we are put away, kept from the light
so the crust doesn’t thicken and spot black
the happy mood doesn’t chase me
a peril we unwillingly subscribed to
tapering us off at the access to manhood
because like an ornament
we were fragile, easily broken
once imperfect to glisten and bring joy
we were swept, disposable, and tossed away

© jacob greb — from lovers’ tiff: a ballad