To my fallen purse

My favorite purse is broken.

It's had it for a while.

I'd left the words unspoken

but sloppy’s not a style.

--

Both straps are barely on there.

It's bulging at the seams.

It's wearable to be fair.

"You slob!” my husband screams.

--

He says I look a hot mess.

My boss said she agreed.

I'm not completely clueless.

I know I must concede.

--

If Goodwill will not take it,

it's time to throw it out.

It's torture to forsake it;

"I really must!" I shout.

--

But off to get a new one.

I'm sure I'll break it too.

I'm in it for the long run.

I'll wear it till it's through!

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/94sro7/comment/e3nkdaa

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