Commentary on "Our life is Not a Movie or Maybe"

What business of mine is this?
Your gilded lies, your golden wrist.
How could I have nerve enough
To wrestle with your narrative.

The story lines lack suspense
The characters have folded
I’ve been using your heavy edits
As sturdy, yellowed bookends

This life you have written down
Is steeped in ancient lore
Everyone knows happy endings
Are as real as fairy tales