I’m the champagne bottle cork
that rockets out
and gives you a black eye
when you’re trying to celebrate.

I’m the spare tire
in the trunk of your car–
there in an emergency,
but always flat
when you need me.

I’m the battery in the bottom of the storage bin.
You needed me two months ago,
when the power went out
but I was nowhere to be found
because you kept me in the dark
when all I wanted
was to help you shine. 
And now I’m dead. 

I’m the tiny piece of chalk,
whittled down,
used and used and used and used
until I am small
but still useful
so you can’t throw me away
just yet.

There is a small dent
in the side of your car. 
That’s me.
I give it personality,
a little bit of flair,
but you would be happier
if I had never happened.

I’m too much
but I’m never enough. 
I am the hollowed out oyster.
The meat of me has been sucked out,
eaten, and enjoyed.
Now I’ve been discarded. 

Your love is conditional
and often selfish,
but I am the one to blame. 
I hold you back.
I keep your wings bound. 
My storm is toxic
and my heart
wounds too easily. 
But it’s okay.
I understand. 
I’m a liability.