You are loose change in my pocket.

I don’t really need you

But you stay

right beside

me.

You are loose change in my pocket.

You fall to the ground

You clamber around

You make a fool

out of

me.

You are loose change in my pocket.

You’re never enough

Your edges are rough

Who do you expect

to clean

you up?

Me.

You are loose change in my pocket.

I forget that you’re there

until out of nowhere

You end up

in my washing

machine.

And there,

you tumble.

You collide

with the sides

in an endless cycle.

And I ignore you.

I ignore you!

Just a little bit more!

I’ve lasted five years

With loose change in my pocket.

Surely I can weather this storm.

But I cannot.

And I yell.

And I break.

“Stop it!

Stop it!”

A bit more

is what

I

could

not

take.

I open the washing machine

To make the maddess and the noise and the banging

Stop.

And the loose change flies out.

It hits me right in my face.

And it hurts.

But I have felt worse pain.

I felt loose change in my pocket

weighing

me

Down

for

five

years

straight.

You were loose change in my pocket.

Now

I do not

carry

change.