Guilt
Chips of guilt
Settle painfully
In my stomach
(original of course...
I needed the salt fix)
Harsh, course salt
The thick Kosher kind
Dashed into the open wounds
Burning fiercly
(not the crispy, blacked burnt...
more like an overtoasted marshmellow)
All that soft goodness
Sweet and cushy
Crisped on the outside
Hardened by the pain
(rock hard really...
we're talking fireball hard)
Fireballs of hate
Only for myself
I'm guilty I know
This pain that I've caused
(a long slow aching pain...
couldn't be sharp and quick)
Sliced through
Soul laid bare
No way to hide
It'll eat me alive
(but first...
I'm going to eat my chips)
A contest entry
- Guilt ... by Polaja.
700 points, ended May 23, 2007, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
-
Nice last line
How true it is that in times of great distress, the 'normal' can save us. Whether binge-eating or keeping it together after a funeral by ensuring everyone has a drink, food is a 'root' that keeps many people from drifting away.
I like the juxtaposition of the emotion, followed by the simple act of eating a simple food.
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First things first! Very nice movement from stanza to stanza. I enjoyed reading it...I'll pass on the chips, but I'll join you for ice cream
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Would it be inappropriate to call this poem amusing?
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