she says "how
can you
love me like this"
her hands over
her face I
mistake for
surrender.
the wooden spoon
she used for
cooking bleeds
across the
floor;
at the door
He grins.
I bend my
arm gently and
remain across
the table
unable to listen.
I am so
appetizing
and not his
child and his
wife would
never cheat
on him.
His brown eyes
taste coppery
in my mouth and
probably I am
dead instead of
lying here and
waiting
painting
family portraits
pretty on
the ceiling.
the birds at
the window are
talking and
I can feel
Him mocking
me
and she still sits
and quits her
hacking havoc.
something hits
the wall and
it is her
favorite dish
I made her when
I was little.
and still
I am so
small,
a know-it-
all with
daddy's eyes
and they are
brown and not
so different
from His.
Author notes
my eyes are actually green...which is totally besides the point.
zil/khourey
A contest entry
- overnight contest. by layla..
525 points, ended February 25, 2008, 9 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 12 of 12
-
oh by the way, GREEN EYES!!! gagagaggagagagag reminds me of harry potter[the BOOK character, not the actor!!!]
-
-
hey, I can't help what color eyes I have!
-
-
... speechless
-
you know how to blow my mind away with images. absolutely brilliant... so brilliant that i can't focus now. lol jk. thanks for your entry.
-
this is so realistic it makes me shudder especially these lines...
'painting
family portraits
pretty on
the ceiling'
for me you caught the moments of pretending i wasn't there, not knowing it wasn't normal.
i like your style
-
-
Thank you.
-
-
accurately heartbreaking.
i wish iknew these people so i could take them to ikea and help them sort out things.
your daddymommababy triangles are edgy.
-
-
thanks. SOmetimes I think I watch too much Jerry Springer.
-
-
you are alot like an artist with your images;
very simple word use & very strong emotions.
im so envious!
wish you luck on this
♥
-
-
thanks. It's nice to be compared to an artist, since that's what I think writers are.
-
-
Wow, this is intense... sounds like domestic violence or something of that nature. I loved this all, can't tell you how much.
"the birds at
the window are
talking and
I can feel
Him mocking
me"
was this part supposed to be a play on mockingbird or did it just turn out that way? Really, this is a wonderful poem.
-
-
when I wrote it, it was just one of those scenes I always see in my head when something bad is happening. It is a domestic violence/child abuse poem. All these American dads that don't want to claim their children. It's sad.
-
Adding your comment:
1 - 12 of 12
