I lie here, waiting for tomorrow, waiting for you to hold me again. You seem so eager to rid yourself of me at night, casually tossing me away, where I remain on the floor. Oh, I do so much for you- I follow you around, hold your things, caress your shoulders. But what do you do for me?

Every morning, you grab me, shake me, whisper obscenities because you hate to take me with you. You force me to open myself to you, and yet take no care of me. You roughly zip me shut, ignorant of how fragile the plastic is. At school, I am left on tables, desks, the library floor, as you pull things out of me and jam things in. You curse me when you leave my pockets open, but I take it all.

Tonight, though, was too much. You brought her home today, one of two days when you leave me home alone. She’s beautiful and red, and apparently just what you “always wanted.” You took everything you’d given me, and left it with her. She sits there as you sleep, even now, smugly chuckling.

How could you replace me with a tawdry tote?!