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Giselle's Poems

The End
A poem by Giselle

The End

That's what they say at the finish of every story.
The End.
And all the characters ride off into the sunset
on their white horses
all smiles
and full of hope.
That's what they say when they finish every story.
Except my story does not end there.
Mine ends when the white horses die,
starving to death,
the smiles are hollow
and cracked with blows,
and the hope glimmers still and silent.
That's the way I end my story.

this is a poem I came across that I wrote some time ago....I have a lot of the same pain/feelings today.

"My Secret Bag"

Inside I hide
my make-up kit.
Foundation
to hide the scars;
Blush
to cover my embarrassment;
Make-up
to conceal my tears,
my weary eyes,
my sorrow.
Bitterness covered with sweet perfume.
Emptiness masked by concealer.
Will it be fair to let you know?
The contents of
my secret bag?

"Today"

(9-7-99)
my eyes opened and closed
my breath escaped through slightly parted lips
and my breath, my cold breath,
stole a piece of me
traces of my spirit
evidence of myself.

my eyes opened and closed
my heart fluttered
with faint traces of life
and yet---I am no longer alive

today
i lost a portion of me
today
i waited to exhale
i wanted to breath
but choked instead

"The Mystery of Me"

I am an angel
fallen from a not so special place
a place where people cry
a place where angels die
and I can't hear my own heart's pleas

the mystery of me.
what am I to you?
who am I to me?
why can't I see my own tears?
gentle droplets
soothing cadence
breathing shallow, so shallow
I'm weak....

I am nothing
and everything
at once
a walking contradiction

I hold a piece of the world
in the palm of my hand
and clutch it tightly
with my death

but I must go
and wander on
though I am stumble
and scrape my knees
my wings will lift me up
and I'll be free.

"Cinderella"

The clock has ticked
way past twelve.
I left my slipper,
shining and delicate
on the steps that
lead away from his castle.
But, my Prince,
he hasn't come
to claim me for
his bride.
The shoe is shattered;
dust on the steps.

****

Untitled

I scream but no sound escapes.
I scream, my body rigid
in fear.
I close my eyes, tighten my throat,
and try again.
Scream.
The loudest sound
in the World,
that no one can hear.

Original poetry by Giselle.

You may send email to this author at DoeEyedGirl124



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