Samantha

Hyperbole, the scars ripped and widening,
Silencing the pulse she hid behind a screen
Of sharp dulling whiskey and menthol cigarettes.

She tried to hide the smell but it still lingered on her breath,
Less impressed with herself but still harbored aspirations despite the fact that motivation had creased her and seen cessation.

She stayed up nights and cried,
Desperately wishing she had not survived but died,
Instead of living to make the world know the way she feels inside.

There went her pride, what little she had,
In the sighs he had pried out of being a cad,
Conniving, divining her secretive soul,
She thought is was worth it but too great was the toll.

Folded fancies in monogrammed hankies,
Soaking up blood that spurted out from the shank deeply imbedded between her heart and her hopefulness so the sputtering life came out by the tank-full.

Nine pints wrangled to keep her filled up,
Kept a stiff upper lip up,
Zipped up the cadaver that insisted she twist up,
Slipped stuff.

She didn’t mean to aggravate it,
But saw there was no longer point in fighting and debating,
Righting and alighting, sights in time defining and abating.

Frustrating, she said “Fuck this shit,” improperly,
Gave up her possessions and went to live in poverty,
Lost in the world, the hurt still unfurled.

Welts she still felt though the sting had run out,
Now more of a woman and less of a girl,
But each and every action still filled her with doubt.

She spouted off proverbs as she angled oddly,
Walking by herself, conversing loudly,
Dowdy in duds she patched on in layers.

Sought small favor, food and nickels on the corners of concrete waves,
On the shore where she stayed, maddening rage that raves.

She saw his crooked smile down an aisle of strangers ignorant, that shook their heads and just thought she was belligerent.

Didn’t see her diligence, didn’t see her tattered heart,
Could see the end coming unaware of its start.

Coughing in the dark, Samantha’s soul departs,
The carboard coverings and the body beneath,
Missing teeth, with weathered, sagging skin;
To its chagrin, it smiles as it soars,
Beyond the corridors of life and its shores.