Delivered
Like a letter, through a box, pushed with little thought of how it went, half in half out. There was no request or choice for the receiver. Do you want this? Should I ring the bell first? Are you the person to whom this is addressed?
No choice, just a push and a shove.
It came out crumpled, bent, dogeared and thrust. Lay there to be turned over, until I’d had enough. It was leaving a stain, like rust.
Pick it up, rip it apart. Discard and flip it in my bin. It wasn’t for me after all, the delivery. I wasn’t the right recipient for the drop.