Betrayed!

A Poem by David Lewis Paget

Giselle and I had been toughing it out,

With arguments every day,

She loved to spend, and I was the bank

To the point that I said, ‘No way!’

Then she pouted, much as she’d always done

And she dragged me into her bed,

That was the weapon she always used

When trying to turn my head.

She spent it faster than I could earn

Though I’d had a win on the gee’s,

A seeming broken-down six year old

A gelding with rickety knees,

I knew the horse was a stayer, though

In a field of sprinting mares,

And after the twenty-five hundred mark

Went rocketing past them there.

I’d dropped a grand, two hundred to one,

The bookies had thought me mad,

But I was rolling in bags of cash

That evening, back at my pad.

Giselle had snaffled a grand or two,

The rest went into the bank,

I wanted to buy a house and land

And I had that horse to thank.

Giselle just wanted to spend and spend

And I finally told her ‘No!’

It was more important to save than splash

On clothes or a picture show,

She’d disappear for days on end

Then come back, looking for cash,

And every time that I told her no

She’d use her tongue, like a lash!

I got a call on a Thursday night

To meet her up in the town,

She wanted to meet in the basement

Of a car-park, underground,

I thought I should, I could meet her there

And finally call it quits,

There wasn’t a whole lot of love to share,

That part had fallen to bits.

I parked the car and I saw her there

But she stood, and waited for me,

Close to a concrete pillar, then

A shadow was all I could see,

A guy came out and pointed a gun

And Giselle said, ‘Go on, shoot!’

I heard the retort, two bullets fired

As they tore through my business suit.

I don’t recall there was too much pain

Just the echoing sound of the shots,

I swayed and crumpled, my knees gave way

I thought I was dead on the spot.

I lay unable to move while she

Rifled my pockets through,

Took my passbook, spat in my face,

Said: ‘That’s what I think of you!’

They found me there in a pool of blood,

I don’t remember the rest,

The police were sat by my hospital bed,

They said they’d made an arrest.

They’d picked the guy and had matched the gun

When Giselle had put him in,

And he must have emptied my bank account,

She said - It was all just spin!

They thought they’d left me for dead out there,

Had freaked when I was alive,

Giselle thought she could cover herself

By telling a thousand lies,

She’d been ‘an innocent bystander’,

She said, was scared by the gun,

She’d wanted to meet me there, she said,

Hit the town, and have some fun.

She came to visit and sat by the bed,

Looked sick and she cried a lot,

She asked me what I remembered, and

I said, ‘Not even a jot!’

I could have had her arrested then,

Made a statement based on fact,

But I had my very own vengeful thoughts,

And that would put paid to that.

The shooter they found dead in his cell,

Strung up with a blue striped tie,

He just couldn’t face a life in jail

While Giselle stayed high and dry.

They’d seen each other behind my back

She’d sucked him in for the kill,

I hid my total contempt for her

But it called for an iron will.

It took three months and she moved back in,

She was finally over her fear,

But needed to cover herself, I knew

She’d leave, when the coast was clear!

She had my money, all stashed away,

In a locker at Central Park,

I’d found the key in her underwear

As I roamed around in the dark.

One night I said we should take the train,

Go down and take in a show,

We got to the end of the platform, and

I hustled her down below,

Down and into the tunnel, said:

‘We’re taking a shorter way!’

Revenge is a dish served cold, I thought,

I was cold as cold that day.

We came to an iron grating that

I lifted, to hustle her down,

Down on a rusty ladder to

The sewers, run under the town.

I cuffed her there to a water pipe

While she screamed and kicked and spat,

When I left her stood in the sewage there

I could see the first grey rat!

David Lewis Paget

© 2012 David Lewis Paget

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Jazique

Nice, revenge a lobel detailed revenge to an evil betray. you had me hooked and hanging waiting to the end as the climax rised. honestly it was like mr. burns said 'excellent'. The details of such a thriller, tragic, mystery, suspenseful poetic story. well done and how she dies, got to be the worst way to die; by the beady eyed rats that huant us under life. i can feel.the chills. well done (clapping)