Shortfall

The bills whisper in shadows, sharp as broken glass,

each slip of paper a hand reaching, threatening to pass.

My paycheck’s a wisp, a barely-there breeze,

while the weight of the rent sinks me down to my knees.

I can hear the laughter of friends through the walls,

but it fades as I stare at this envelope that stalls.

Crossed out numbers linger like ghosts in the air,

a game I can’t win, this relentless despair.