you were lost from the start.
with your flashy car and your dirty fingers.
anyone could tell you were desperate.
but you were laughing. you were playing nice.
you were making me think you were honest.
you were making me think that when you touched me
it would feel like a frayed sweater or knobby blanket,
something familiar to slip into like an old habit.
maybe, on weekends, you used to ride your bike to the store.
or cut your neighbor’s grass because he was hurt and lonely.
(just like you.)
maybe you and your friends would play poker in the basement
on tuesday nights when the ballgame was on.
maybe you watched wheel of fortune reruns on tv.
or maybe you did none of these things and I am just wishing
you were a boy with a kind heart and a conscience.
but you were making me think it might be okay.
to touch your arm. to stumble.
and your eyes were too close but it didn’t really matter
because they were bluestatic on my pale pale skin. but I
wish you would have touched my face instead of my ass.
I wish you would have kissed me instead of pressing me
into that cold cold floor. I wish you would have known
that sometimes dirty hands and rough arms are okay,
but not when they are over my mouth instead of my body.
you were the boy who used me last night.
who tricked me. who fooled me. who won.
you know exactly who you are.
so let me fill you in.
I am unsatisfied. disappointed.
I am the girl who left you. no words. no answers.
I am gone.
Author notes
I am the girl who screwed up.
A contest entry
- You, were wearing a green dress... by tara wilson.
1700 points, ended July 30, 2007, 19 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
thoughts.
Comments
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LMAO
It's not really funny, but the author's comments for some reason extracted a devilish laugh from me. Reminds me of my damned ex (doesn't everything remind me of some ex? my god, I have so many of them).
This was really a heart-wrenching, earth-shattering kind of write.
"Bluestatic"... I love that term. Very original.
Your descriptions were expertly written, but so, so despaired. I read more than anger in this, I sense a sort of self-destruction/self-hate (for letting yourself be played this way). More importantly, I sense a great and terrible anguish. It seems those wounds will never heal, those scars will never fade.
I've been there (hell, I'm still there in some ways).
It's a woman's terrible misfortune to always be the victim of her own sensuality. Either you are open to the pain men cause, or you become cold and closed off (a rigid shrewd)... I'm not certain which fate is worse.
Excellent piece, my dear. I wish I could take this away from you and make it all a bad dream.
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Thank you for this entry...I was hoping for a little more romance...as I'm sure you were, too
...move on...the guy's a jerk and now you know those types
Take care
you are more than that, and deserve better...sometimes we don't think we do.....
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