I wait, dear friend, in line to collect you

you my rejected painting in this year’s competition

Unselected entry, now out of the race,

But when it’s my turn in the queue to be reacquainted with you,

I am caught between a rock and a very hard place

 

At the front of the queue is you waiting there

Wrapped up in paper and protective layer

I see glimmers of you through a paper tear

But I do not give in and resist your stare

I collect you and take you over to where

is a pile of rejections stacked up on a chair

The next time I see you will be in bonfire glare

with these other paintings like you destined for bonfire flare

 

I know this will be tough me cutting you out of my hair

I will not wallow in regret or self-despair

I will follow my instincts and self-repair

To the world and I, I self-declare

To put myself first and onto myself be fair

Practice self-love and embrace self-care

 

I’m still clinging to you who should be dead in my past

You are a ghost of feelings I do not want to last

Having you back in my life will only deflect

Me taking time out for myself to sit back and reflect

Me not moving on is self-neglect

Whilst questions I have for those who did not select

Like what did they think was your defect?

Maybe they knew me and through you could detect

That I need to cut ties in self respect

For the sake of both of our lives

I press eject