by Ginette T Belle

I could make a little puddle for her
warm and salty soaking the tips of my shoes
for I know the horrific feeling when
you finally WAKE UP
when you are standing there
drenched in blood
eyes wide in disbelief
that once again you have been deceived
taken to the top of the mountain
only to find there's no air to breathe

(using your ears as a microphone)

Yes, yes, I could make a puddle
for the girl who just couldn't dig her way out
who just got handed the wrong ticket
the ticket to nowhere
but what can you do...
eat it, swallow it
and hope you don't die from a sour stomach


Posted on 07/02/2003
Copyright © 2023 Ginette T Belle

Member Comments on this Poem
Posted by Max Bouillet on 07/02/03 at 10:42 PM

Fantastic imagery. It makes stunning visual for the mind's eye.

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