Trophy Wife
A perfect doll
Dressed to the nines
A trophy to be worn
A graceful beauty
Fit for the silver screen
She smiles
False pretenses
Hiding
A mask so thin
Mouth sewn shut
A porcelain doll
That shatters
Like broken glass
Damaged
Broken
And glued back together
Repeatedly
Until there is nothing left
But an old rag doll
Fit for nothing but the trash
So you toss her away
For another
I am sorry to anyone who reads this - but it says it needs to be terrible
I am a detective. The kind that solves mysteries. And right now, I have a doozy of a case. There was a shooting. The kind where some body ends up dead. Splattered on pavement shoved from a third story window after being stabbed. Was it the wife? Probably. It was always the wife. I should just go ahead and arrest her. But wait. She is also dead. So it must be the mistress. A revenge killing. Case closed. Now on to the next. And I bet it will be just as difficult to solve as this one.
Addict of the Page
I am starting to think that I write too much. But the more I write the faster the thoughts come. Words demanding to be put on a page. And if I ignore them, they plague me all day. So forgive me, for the randomness of my mind. And maybe eventually time will stem this tide. But until then, there is not much for me to do. Except to give these words a voice. Because if I don't they are voices in my head. Screaming a million choruses keeping me from my bed.
Aching Legs
Simplicity of the gracious mind
Astounded faith in wasted time
Follow the tracks of the train
Dodge between the drops of rain
Race for the goal atop the hill
Treasured words, forgotten bills
Again you hear the rap of nails
Pounding on the back of whales
Blow the horn of bone and brass
Skin the horse and run to class
Train your mind for the worst
Blessed memories, lost perversed
Riddle me this, riddle me that
There was a cat that never sat
And aching legs he had...
Continue the run, petition the race
That cat will aid you in your chase
But aching legs he has...