Three

 

Three

 

I had been lying here

for three days

before they found me,

all sticky and sweet.

 

I had in my right hand

a fist,

and a clump of his hair

in the other.

 

But I couldn’t do much

about the knife

sticking out

of my neck.

 

It seems he cut me

to the bone,

in more ways

than one.

 

And I could swear

I heard the coroner giggle,

when he peeked

under my skirt.

 

As if it were

a secret,

or something?

 

In the end

I didn’t feel bad

about the situation I was In,

just a little embarrassed,

because my hair slipped off

when they lifted me

from the floor.

 

The floor I cleaned,

three days ago.

Reviews

[Emily]

What a hauntingly interesting piece. I cannot help but be left with numerous questions as to exactly what happened during this piece. The flow is amazing and the questions' answers are just barely hinted at through this wonderful piece. What happened? Who did this? Why was the coroner laughing?

This poem actually could be doing a shortened version of a very dramatic story. I can imagine the questions falling into place and the details being organized and absolutely amazing.

Once again, lovely piece.

[Misery]

Words from the eyes of Abigale that see the world from a precarious perch of truth and pain.
Truthfully and painfully and beautifully written, dear Abigale.