Thrown Away

I feel thrown away. Being forced, like and with my marriage, jammed, stomped into the trash. And I feel thrown away. Like garbage. Like an untidy side effect. An aborted attempt at something great.

Today is trash day. I put out the trash and the recycling on the sidewalk by this house, where all the walls are painted in colors she chose. And I fold laundry now, passing time. And I feel thrown away. I accept it, feel it, absorb it. I am trash now. Unwanted by-product. Something new may grow, someday. But today is trash day.