The Glastonbury Dress
I watch you slowly sink
taking longer than expected.
I imagined Ophelia
flowers drifting over you
floating in the dark water.
Reality is more sordid
and yet still sensual;
your breasts now visible
outlined by the wet fabric
of the dress.
That dress.
The Glastonbury dress;
the dress you wore for him.
Your vacant eyes stare accusingly
as if you didn't have it coming:
Whore.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
