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Magazine Magic
June 6, 2011
They are sick
sick
sickly sweet
white teeth and laces every edge
increased and faded.
Glossy goddesses,
hair a cascade
outstretched arms
in gauzy facade.
Light pouring on them:
Thin
red-lipped
inhaling
kissing
dancing
suspending
in stilled frame.
"Aren't I
aren't I glamorous
in my collared boned shame?
Don't you wish you were me,
with sunken, mocking face?
I am the picture of perfecteion
my eye-lights never fade
I am guiltless temptations
but beauty knows no pain."
© Heather W., No., Brunswick, NJ
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JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 2 comments.
miscellaneous said...
on Jul. 6 2011 at 11:37 pm
This poem is fantastic and much hope to it getting voted up and picked.
Emily_iz_poet said...
on Jul. 3 2011 at 10:23 pm
I love your poetry :D I hope you get chosen for the magazine best of luck <3~
