Belief is drought
I fell in
affection
For her face
And her
confidence
And her body
Without really
knowing
Who she was.
Common amongst
the young
But I thought
I knew
better.
I knew
better.
I guess I was
hoping for something different
This time around
Though
experience had taught me otherwise
It’s nice to
pretend
As we like to
believe
In a prime-time
outcome
A core that
believes
In sunsets
And soothing
credit rolls
And breakfast
croissants on fluffy pillows.
Yet she was an
asshole
Who would fuck her
benefactor over
If it meant a tiny
step up
Closer to the
silver grinning tinsel.
Belief is a long
dry creek bed.
A big change of tone at the end. Had me laughing, from surprise, when perhaps I should have been sad for the narrator's anger and disappointment.
ReplyDeleteUnfortunately, this happens on a regular basis.
ReplyDeleteThe poem is really good and the photo with the girl crossing her fingers behind her back is perfect.