The Song of Satisfaction

You made me change my mind,
first about one thing,
then about happiness

Everyone and their mother

and their brother and their sister

knew that I was not good with change,

And I especially didn't like you tampering with my synapses,

my dominoes of sorts,

I knew they would call me a sell out for this,

for staring perpetual conflict in the face and holding it in contempt

There was a wraparound porch in an abandoned swampland

that belonged only to our soured enchantment,

white with promise,

it was now covered in fissuring moss from before the turn of that century

But I no longer felt anything for that porch,

or that house,

or when my father told me that you're only as miserable as you allow yourself to be

Or that misery loves company

because it didn't love me the way it needed to

and certainly not the way I needed it to