Sad Grrrl #39

This sadness hangs in the closet of my parents’ house
like my prom dress
never worn,
stupidly familiar
a soft fury
towards myself
that never wavers
It is the influx of fear driving past my old high school
the pomp and circumstance of a lump in my throat
the sinking fear wedged into my duffle bag
somewhere between my pills and deodorant.

That my fuckups are cyclical and I am doomed to return
to the airtight silence of the mall,
folding sweaters at Forever 21
with an emphasis in writing.
This burn of dread,
warm and steady languishing in the bath tub,
a wizened and dreamless broad,
is always ready to welcome me home.

___

Rosie Accola is a zine-maker, editor, and poet based out of Chicago, IL. She is the online editor for Hooligan Mag and the Entertainment Editor for F Newsmagazine. She lives for dogs, poems, and her sad grrrl jams. You can follow her on Instagram @rosieaccola.