A Poem by Haley Smith

Neat, neat.
you thought everything
would be neat.
every detail,
every move,
every thing 
was coolly calculated.

But I found the snag
in the wool.

He rests on a pedestal now.
He is your Dalí.
He is at the forefront of your mind.

Have your sockets grown tired
from your eyes darting left?

You and your stenching lineage
might toss around the words
Jealous, possessive, Odd,

Hardly. Don't let your
pastoral pomposity
devour you.

Has your tongue grown weary
from all the 
silver mountains it's had to climb?

But I,
a kitten to milk,
lapped them up,
licked each claw.

The fight would be futile.
You would bask in denial
and I would drown in
undying disappointment.

In a fortnight I'll be gone
and you 
will never know.

© 2010 Haley Smith

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Added on May 29, 2010
Last Updated on May 30, 2010
Tags: poem, hate, hatred, annoyance, teenagers, boyfriends, girlfriends, relationships


Haley Smith
Haley Smith

Fayetteville, AR

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