Late-at-night story-fiction-dark poem. I think that’s an apt if not eloquent description. Not *entirely* satisfied, but thought would put it out there.
You, in the centre of the room,
Standing there with your smirk,
Expect me to wilt on this wall,
Fated forever here to lurk.
“They will never believe you,”
Your glances plainly say,
“So why bother, why try?”
Always encouraging me to stay,
Stay put here in quiet shadow.
I watch you converse, at ease,
Our eyes again, they meet…
And now mine flutter, and tease.
“Who says I didn’t enjoy it?”
They laugh, expert little spies.
“Come on, let me show you…”
And ego falls for their lies.
Surprised, delighted, you follow,
We leave the crowd behind,
To a space far more suited,
To what we each have in mind.
This time, my lips greet yours,
Revenge-drenched with false lust,
And as yours eagerly answer,
I wonder at your quick trust.
Once my blade finds its mark,
Disgusted, I push you away –
“Can you really be that stupid?”
I can’t help but openly say.
You fall, bleeding, don’t answer,
Watch me wipe the evidence clean,
Watch me call the police as well,
“I’ve just found a murder scene!”
As I’m leaving to the sound of sirens,
You try to speak and fail,
Your eyes blur, your breath catches –
All your efforts to no avail…
“Yes, this is how helpless feels,”
I shake my head with near pity.
Then I turn and run to a car,
Ready to flee this tainted city.
My own suicide note is waiting,
Ready to be found tomorrow,
But friends are few and family fewer,
There won’t be that much sorrow.
To start anew in fresh pastures,
That’s been my aim for a while…
As dawn breaks, for the first time in weeks,
I finally allow myself to smile.
I don’t often explore such dark themes in depth, but I’m trying to ‘write in a way that scares me a little’ as I’ve heard that’s a good thing to do. It was pretty interesting writing this. Any suggestions/comments are always appreciated!
Thanks for stopping by.