| All rights reserved. |
 | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  | |  |
| atalantacreative |
Photo by Neli Moody
Prom
I never understood.
“Enjoy it,” they said as if the rest of life was going to be a guaranteed crapfest.
The dress, the decorations, the hopes and dreams, all resting on one magical night that you
Will look back to when you’ve lost your job, your husband, your figure, they tell you. You will return
There, they assure you, with nostalgia for the person you were then. You will remember, as you rinse
Your worn out panties, the boy who kissed you under the lights borrowed from the theater
Department to create a romantic ambiance. You will see the teacher chaperones smiling.
You will not care that the Woolite you use for your unmentionables has overflowed the basin
As you recall that his lips tasted like breath mints and tropical punch.
I never understood.
“Enjoy it,” they said as if the rest of life was going to be a guaranteed crapfest.
The dress, the decorations, the hopes and dreams, all resting on one magical night that you
Will look back to when you’ve lost your job, your husband, your figure, they tell you. You will return
There, they assure you, with nostalgia for the person you were then. You will remember, as you rinse
Your worn out panties, the boy who kissed you under the lights borrowed from the theater
Department to create a romantic ambiance. You will see the teacher chaperones smiling.
You will not care that the Woolite you use for your unmentionables has overflowed the basin
As you recall that his lips tasted like breath mints and tropical punch.