Do Not let Your Instincts Run Right over Reason - Panda Express Inn

Ben Rosen
Wrapped tightly like a fortune cookie
Ready to shatter with surrender
My heart divides in jagged form
A hollow interior,
flicked into the trash.
Feet, crumpled pieces of paper
while my body shrivels and shrinks.
Once perfectly bound,
machine crafted and suctioned,
tight plastic bow.
Punctured in the night,
that fortune cookie
wishes it was never picked.
Cracked to a crisp while lovers raged,
cookie fragments pulverized effortlessly;
another broken lightbulb,
the final time we will need a trash man
on tuesday.