Here’s to Me on the High Road

It’s nice to know I can blog about frustration, because those who frustrate me don’t care enough to look at a blog called YOnTheEnd to figure out what I’m thinking about. Those who frustrate me would ignore these poems and these musings and confidently maintain a brief preconception of my blonde hair, so

Here’s to you.
Here’s to knowing that you won’t scratch beneath the surface.
Here’s to letting me blow my cool because you won’t see it.
Here’s to me and my phony smile and nodded head.
Here’s to us and whatever connection we’re not forming.
From the cursory condemnation of something I love.
To the unconsidered judgment of someone I like.
To the outreached hand under your tread.
To texted passive aggression.
To active aggression.
To carelessness.
To hatefulness.
To ignorance.
To mistrust.
To cold.

Here’s to me, Better One Behind Your Back.
Here’s to me, cradling insignificance.
Here’s to me on the High Road.
To wondering what I did
And giving you the blame.


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