5: Her Ode

Ennui is her groom, tuxedo-fitted, tailored,
Self-fulfilling prophecy made true. The altar
sinks from all these heavy thoughts, weigh down the air
As guests sit in the stifling room
Make calculations between themselves and I,
We bet on the results of months of dinner parties,
Cocktail dreams and poolside eats
Gatherings and followings,
Trips to far-off islands to invest their time
in What Should Be. Seems like the veil was never taken off.
But he, he did.
Years of being - statistical wreckage. We witnessed it,
and still we looked away.