Shayla
She pulls off her glasses and says:
"For my whole life, I''ve wandered through a maze.
My drawings look like a drunken haze of fog,
And sometimes I wonder."
Her dirty brown hair falls down to her shoulders.
She waves her hand back and forth for his pleasure.
She once promised him any leisure;
Now she gives in without a care.
He won't meet her on time;
She won't see his betrayal's a crime;
I know her life's none of my business.
Nobody in love wishes for this:
Holding on after a goodbye kiss;
He wants to pursue another ;
As pretty as a stained ocean pearl;
He trusts in her feigned innocence.
Shayla, do you ever ask him why?
He won't just tell you goodbye.
Shayla, do you ask yourself how?
Why do you settle for second best?
He leaves your heart on the shelf;
When that glass smashes to smithereens,
You will pick up the broken pieces,
While cutting your hands in the process.
Then you will smear over the canvas,
You will spread charcoal as lines of scrimmage.
One side of the picture holds back betrayal;
The other side protects your territory.
He will try to go after you there.
He won't get through the muddy trenches.
You won't have to declare war.
He will shoot himself with his own bullet.
You should finish that picture.
A friend will frame it for you;
Then you can send a copy through the mail,
Along with a picture of his faithlessness,
To his latest friend and wish him well.
Copyright © Stephanie Kjaerbaek | Year Posted 2006
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