Chipping
Warped champagne flutes and crumbling columns
Chipped white paint and wine-stained curtains
The aesthetics fade and the only thing left is you
You can’t take it with you
You try to paint over the dark circles under your eyes
But they remain
No matter how much you tint the windows on your Mercedes you still see the scraps under your feet
And no sunglasses can tint the cardboard signs
“Hungry, John 3:16” burned into your mind
The paint will chip and melt and sliiiiiiiiide down
And each crack will become unmistakable
Until you must release the chains that your apathy has bound
Until you must look their vulnerability in the eye
And recognize the commonality that no check can write away