She Lies

She lie, engulfed in the sickening cliché

that should always have been someone else’s.

Stung, downed and drowned

by the angel dust-tongued liar

who ripped out her heart

polishing it, like a badge on his chest.

Her, the she-bird of ‘up the girls’ and

myriad other femme fatale superiority defiances.

Stunned, glaring into the ‘gotcha’ headlights.

She was meat.

Tortured, longing, yearning, willing the stabbing to stop.

Surrendering to mind-deadening, grave-groping despair,

the last of the pills, with the neat vodka,

slipped down her throat easily.
Maybe she would.

Maybe she wouldn’t.

With heaven-circling,

who knew?

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3 Responses to She Lies

  1. I corrected you link at dVerse… there had been something wrong. Love how you weaved the compound words into the desperation of your tale.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Sabio Lantz says:

    Ouch. “Nicely” done. Captured well.

    Like

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