Cold Closure

Clocking out, the chill clings to my bones,

a shift filled with bleaches, as I scroll on my phone.

Dumped by a text, words sharp as the knives,

while cardboard and freezer burn eat at my drives.

I stand under lights, so clinical, bright,

raw feelings emerge, cut through the night.

Life feels so fragile, exposed in the glow,

as the doors of this grocery store hum their low woe.