I wrote this poem after speaking with a friend about her experience and perception of herself as a bridesmaid:
I found a box of eggs on the carpet in the corner behind the curtains. They were 2 months past their use by date and like small grenades ready to go off at any moment. I knew immediately who the culprit was. But I didn’t expect Such a total lack of remorse, she barely blinked at the question and continued to stuff her fistful of crisps into her fat little chops.