#frigid bitch

“To Mel” Edgar Allan Poe, 1830    O! I care not that my earthly lot    Hath little of Earth in it,    That years of love have been forgot    In the fever of a minute:    I heed not that the desolate    Are happier, sweet, than I,    But that you meddle with my fate    Who am a passer by.    It is not that my founts of bliss    Are gushing- strange! with tears-    Or that the thrill of a single kiss    Hath palsied many years-    'Tis not that the flowers of twenty springs    Which have wither'd as they rose    Lie dead on my heart-strings    With the weight of an age of snows.    Not that the grass- O! may it thrive!    On my grave is growing or grown-    But that, while I am dead yet alive    I cannot be, lady, alone.

Target was selling shirts in the ladies department that said “Trophy” and “Future Bride”, so I thought I’d make a shirt that applied more accurately to peeps like me.