Twisted

Once, I wrote poetry,

the black cat part of me.

Once, I flew on airplanes,

until they gave me migraines.

Once upon a time I

believed in ever after

but no prince proved perfect.

<_><_>

I loved the holidays,

reveling with friends drunk

on life, youth, and wonder.

We’d drive two hours

trying new eateries,

hiking unfamiliar

places, and cheating death.

<_><_>

My mother’s face haunts me

walking toward the mirror.

No more second chances.

No more princes courting.

Once, my poetry rhymed,

when words did not betray

their twisted definitions.

 

Β©Joelle LeGendre