Michelle Grondine: Three Poems

the last time i saw her was at a Taylor Swift concert 

she was crying on a broken parking divider
torn askew from the asphalt
like a tornado tearing through a quiet unassuming town full of sleeping citizens
she spilled the tar of her crumbling relationship onto ours, burning through the facade that was our friendship
did i ever even really know her at all?
or just the gossamer-thin self she wanted me to know
spontaneous and free but never available when called to show up for others,
well-traveled and cultured but never across the comfy Eurasian line,
caping for women in plain sight but mysteriously silent behind dark locked doors of a misogynist’s misdirected hate-filled ire,
feigned innocence, doe-eyed,
carefully constructed like one of her short stories she had me edit but never gave me credit for
much like the majority of our relationship
when she tried to take ownership over things that she had no hand in at all
“fuck the patriarchy!” in her pink pussy hat, though, right?
i watch in silence from the shadows as she performs her cool girl persona for the masses
which was really just a collection of personality traits she saw in others around her that she found attractive
so she chose to take for her own fool self
i embarrass my self i didn’t see it sooner
reinvention is just another form of colonialism
gentrified my personality and claimed it as her own
“who would believe you anyway?”
it’s her word versus mine and the system’s rigged for her from the start
it’s game over before it even began
play again soon, though?
(i don’t have enough me left for her to pillage from)


she pots me too tight in my starter pot

she overwaters me when i only need a light drizzle
she gatekeeps the sun from me
and somehow still keeps it too hot in the shade all the same
she tears my roots asunder when i am not ready to be unearthed
she steals my home to give to another
she never thinks twice
it’s in her nature
not to nurture
is that really her fault?
should she not keep trying anyway?
nurturing isn’t her strong suit
in fact, for her, it’s no suit at all
it’s an anstaltskleidung
so she snacks on my flesh like dried squid legs
do i taste any good?
her personal farm to table
ripe for the slaughter

she smiles
i’m stuck in her teeth
silently screaming


i can’t seem to find her

everywhere i look
emptiness follows
dark chasms
hollow crevices
swelter alone
masterful mnemonic devices shared in rooms that don’t register sound
she placates me with a facade of perfection
natural is out,
long live immaculate veneer!
who knows what rot festers layers beneath
she hides it so well
i choke on her promises
“i’ll never leave you,”
“you’re the only one for me,”
“i can’t live without you,”
“without you, life has no meaning.”
she never meant a single word
my vanity kept me from seeing the truth
it was never me all along
but i take solace in knowing
it was never her for me either
and at least we will always have that

What are you looking for?