Money matters and then its spent.
Like a casual affair, you spread yourself out,
only to find it is too thin.
I spend and feel like loose change.
Pennies really.
I try not to think about the mattress you sleep on.
How money does not buy happiness-
is misconstrued.
It buys it repeatedly.
It just never keeps it.
I always look down so our eyes don't meet.
Like guilty pleasures and sinful glances,
I can't see how little you already have.
I wait until it's all gone.
Then I can build from your scratch.
Somewhere in all the gifts,
is a daughters face
and the guilt life has etched on it.
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