No,
I won’t be your
thirty-five-year-old
regret,
drowning in
rocky road and old
black and white movies.
I won’t be your
stay-at-home-mom
swimming in
old jogging suits and
age-old tennis shoes.
I won’t be your
one-stop-shop
for years and years of
lost chances
and broken-hearted goodbyes
to lost dreams, selves, and
what-could-have-been’s.
No,
I won’t be yours
at all.
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