How Many?
She stopped tally at fifty-four;
how many more?
Much more than sixty-
eighty? A hundred? More?
Sadly, more.
(How many more
took her by force?)
But fewer than the stars,
fewer than the ocean sands,
fewer than the tears she’s shed
trying to forget.
.
.
.
.
How many nights
of anonymous dissatisfaction?
How many daybreak flights from their lonely beds
to avoid rejection?
(The way their eyes
would not meet hers.)
How many times did she spin the loaded barrel
and point the gun at her head?
How did she continuously beat
the odds of roulette?
(Never did one of their seeds
take root
or infect.)
How many showers
to scrub away ocean scent?
How many of them
offered to keep her?
How many roles did she play?
How many lies did she tell along the way?
She never even knew all their names.
If she tried,
could she remember
all
their
faces ?
A contest entry
- 35 Confessions by Zayra Yves.
2200 points, ended February 16, 2008, 14 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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nice poem
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Oh, this is way too sad.
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Thank you for sharing your poetry. I appreciate the effort and how you reached into the soul for this work.
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Its no wonder...
You find favor with God. Because your heart speaks to
the hearts of imperfect people, and offers hope to
those who suffer continual rejection.
As I read this poem, twenty something(?)disappeared
into oblivion. (good riddance).
I've just been browsing mostly, looking for new
inspiration. Haven't written much of anything for
a while now - cant seem to find enough release from
the cares of this world to get my creative juices
flowing.
-Buster
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I completely understand that kind of writer's block. I've gone months without writing anything. Sometimes looking through the contests here will spark a little something for me. I hope that things get better and allow your muse the energy it needs to flow.
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