(Pic from Easy Street Prompts. For more inspiring pics for writing, see the Easy Street Widget on the sidebar!)
We’re just friends is
Your platitude
Not mine
~
I can face the old track
To yesterday ~
Relaxed
Even in an old borrowed
Green velvet arm chair ~
But you just bring your formal
White-coated blindness
And pleasantly
Adopt the role
Of a plastic doorman ~
Bow stiffly in the doorway of yesterday
Open it for me ~
Then walk away
To your next
Sugar puppet
Your next
Iced mannerism
Your next
Stringy smile
~
But if you turn around right now
You may find
I hold the real red blood
Of your lipstick ~
The one that is not yours
The one you stole from me
The one you wear on
The back of your
White white
Jacket ~
The one you can’t see ~
The one I hold
Limp and grunged
In just one hand
Powered with boiling revenge
Tautly psyched for the next
Cannon shot
~
It is called
Betrayal ~
And I know ~
It looks remarkably like
The meaty coils of
A heart.
~
1 comment:
that was a gripping poem, I can feel her rage, terrible and heartbreaking
Post a Comment