![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Entry tags:
(no subject)
I won $50 and second place on a poem of mine for my school's lit contest! And out of around 130 poems, too. Sweet! I also got an honorable mention for the other piece I entered, a formal essay.
She knows
there are daggers in a man's smile,
with his
cool calculating come-hither
and his
silent promise of things to come.
She knows.
she goes
to the man with the crooked smile
who says
“baby i’ll treat u rite”
with two
fingers crossed behind his back.
She goes.
She hears
her best friend say “Girl, he is bad news.”
and her
phone turning off because he doesn’t like her friends,
she hears
her mother not inviting him to dinner.
She hears.
But she goes
with the man with the pressed Ralph Lauren.
She follows
his pale pale blue eyes,
She's drawn
in by his smile, with the daggers she pretends she can’t see.
She goes.
She pretends
that maybe the blonde is his cousin,
tells herself
that maybe he was working on something when he didn't take her call,
says that
maybe he was just caught in traffic when he was three hours late.
She pretends.
She doesn’t
hear him when he says she’s worthless, she acts
like it
doesn't matter when he won’t talk to her with his friends around,
she doesn’t
believe herself, believe what she knows.
She doesn’t.
She cries
when he leaves her.
She cries
when he tells her she was just a good lay.
She cries
as she watches him walk away.
She cries.
She goes
back to her friends, her mother, her work.
She starts
roller skating, and not painting her nails,
she watches
chick flicks, and flirts with strangers.
She goes.
She becomes
confident in herself, in what she does.
She returns
to the woman she was before him.
She gets
over him.
She becomes.
She goes.
back to him.
Again.
there are daggers in a man's smile,
with his
cool calculating come-hither
and his
silent promise of things to come.
She knows.
But then
she goes
to the man with the crooked smile
who says
“baby i’ll treat u rite”
with two
fingers crossed behind his back.
She goes.
She hears
her best friend say “Girl, he is bad news.”
and her
phone turning off because he doesn’t like her friends,
she hears
her mother not inviting him to dinner.
She hears.
But she goes
with the man with the pressed Ralph Lauren.
She follows
his pale pale blue eyes,
She's drawn
in by his smile, with the daggers she pretends she can’t see.
She goes.
She pretends
that maybe the blonde is his cousin,
tells herself
that maybe he was working on something when he didn't take her call,
says that
maybe he was just caught in traffic when he was three hours late.
She pretends.
She doesn’t
hear him when he says she’s worthless, she acts
like it
doesn't matter when he won’t talk to her with his friends around,
she doesn’t
believe herself, believe what she knows.
She doesn’t.
She cries
when he leaves her.
She cries
when he tells her she was just a good lay.
She cries
as she watches him walk away.
She cries.
But then
She goes
back to her friends, her mother, her work.
She starts
roller skating, and not painting her nails,
she watches
chick flicks, and flirts with strangers.
She goes.
She becomes
confident in herself, in what she does.
She returns
to the woman she was before him.
She gets
over him.
She becomes.
But then.
She goes.
back to him.
Again.