2 of 88

Write now Article Tools

Inside my purse

Ever so often
I clean out my purse.
I vow to do better
but things only get worse.

It is amazing
The things I find at the core.
I think I have made it to the bottom
but then I find more.

I discovered a broken cigarette.
There were pieces everywhere.
I don't even smoke.
How the heck did that get there?

My camera was open.
The batteries are gone.
There is a broken calculator
that always stays on.

There is lotion squirted all over the sides;
at least, I hope that is what it is.
There is a tube of bright orange lipstick
that no man would want to kiss.

There are important papers wadded up,
and phone numbers I don't recognize.
There's even jewelry,
that's no where close to my size.

I found three strange keys,
and an overdue bill.
There were even wilted flowers,
and a faded headache pill.

A lot of this stuff
I don't understand.
I never eat tuna but
once I found an empty can.

Very little time passes when I clean it out,
a couple of weeks at least.
Yet, the smell is never any better
than that of a hairy beast.

I don't know how
I accumulate all this useless stuff.
I get rid of a bunch
then I can't seem to get enough.

Subconsciously, I feel the need,
to fill my purse to the brim.
Then I have to clean it out,
and repeat the process again.

Learn more about this author, Laura Leigh Fields.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.

Add your voice

Know something about Poetry: Inside my purse?
We want to hear your view. Write now!