Get Your Premium Membership

Jezebel

When all was lost. I saw stars in all their eyes, and they always talked the same all lines. Always someone’s mistress or someone’s dirty secret. They all think they got the best of me. No longer someone’s saint or sinner . Tired of playing the same old’ part. Always getting my heart torn and ripped apart. Getting laughed at when I would walk in the room. I tried to leave that girl behind. Leave all her ghosts and secrets in their graves. But, sometimes she’s still there. I can feel her laying dormant bidding her time. Just waiting for a reason to misbehave. For tomorrow was all I ever had. Looking forward to the fear and the sad. I did’t like the person I saw in the mirror. I was willing to accept the person I was becoming. That all there was in life was alcohol and my life at the bar.. Emptiness began to fill my soul. In my arrogance I filled it with whatever was handy or would fit. Always waking up more emptier than before. Ending up someone’s mistake or whore. I trusted my inner self believing in all the lies I told myself… Liquor gleaming like jewels. Emeralds, amethysts, and embers. Bitter and sweet. Cold and soothing. Blackouts. The strangers. The drives home. Things along the way telling me I was doing the right thing. Alcohol becoming AN ALL TO FAMILIAR VOICE. Rather choosing blitzed out of mind than make the wise choice. Where my demons reveled in melee and found solace to my utter dismay. I can still hear them now, calling.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




Post Comments

Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.

Please Login to post a comment

Date: 6/29/2009 11:18:00 AM
Welcome to PoetrySoup Jessie. I am hoping to read many more poems written by you. Love, Carol
Login to Reply
Date: 6/27/2009 10:10:00 PM
hope you find yourself, nice expression...Karla
Login to Reply
Date: 6/27/2009 9:04:00 PM
Life is sad sometimes and there is no catharsis like writing ... yet beyond the healing purpose here, your poem is the butterfly becoming ... great write.
Login to Reply

Book: Shattered Sighs