Pink 7-up

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I sit here in my room,
Chugging pink 7-up
That presumably went flat
Over an hour ago.
Making similes
And comparisons
That make emos
Look like poets

And here I am,
Staring into the colorful,
Mildly flavored, over-sugared
Apathetic, ooze
Making another
Lame, stupid
Analogy

My life as of late
And this over-satiated
Sugar water
Have more in common
Then I wish

It started after
The last day of school
The 21st of this
Hellish month
I watched as you
Walked away

The bottle got
Halfway-opened

Then it was left
Loosing a steady,
Small stream
Of it’s fizz.
It sat for what,
Three weeks?

Then, that morning back
It opened.
As I sat down
In the seat that I
No longer had to fight for
Didn’t have to push,
Pull, or race for...
I knew it was wrong

The now even seating
Frightens me with it’s
Absolute uniformity
No pulled up chair by the side,
No one sulking on the padded bench
And everyone seems
Not to notice this flaw

Halfway through the day
Someone closes the bottle
Scolding that it would spill
And conserving the last
Tiny bit of fizz

Then, when I finally got home,
Walked in the door,
I broke down
And opened the bottle myself

Releasing the last bit of CO2
Into the vast atmosphere
Contributing to hurricanes,
Volcanoes, sunspots,
Melting ice, exploding
Kittens and whatever else
That Gore asshole
Feels like guilt tripping
Us on this week

All of my CDs
Are either too depressing
Or too upbeat
So I turn down my speakers
Until the songs are just
An eerie murmur
Indistinguishable from
One-another

A strong jolt-like vibration
Sends my phone
Flying off the table
Onto the floor next to me

A simple name is scrawled
Across the light-up screen
Amaoury</i>
Shaking almost as much
As the device, itself
I answer

“Hello?”