Sycophancy
by Ashely Hynd
when did life get so busy that romance
became taking out the garbage or doing
the dishes and when was ‘I love you’
lost in the metronome of you breathing
because you sleep-in past me because my
classes start earlier than yours and when
did date night become disillusioned backs
facing one another in a cubical on silent
seven when did doing this become less
desirable than writing a five page essay
on existentialism and angst when did
school become the rug that we sweep
our messes under?