Smoke and mirrors

A Poem by Delilah

I met a man he seemed decent

political activist, outgoing

engaging, confident, into art

writes poetry, stories, takes photos

I think to myself, must mean he's decent

but what I forget is that's all smoke and mirrors

just a way to deceive the outer world

girls like me with no confidence

he asked me if I wanted to see his dick

he asked me what am I wearing

next thing you know he'll ask for pictures

when all around people see an upstanding man

how did I get to see that side?

Is there anyone good left?

Am I all alone in this?

Should I reconcile myself with the fact,

that certain girls just don't matter

that for some reason we can be treated

like a secret porn stash when I' m ripped apart from the inside

and I'm not strong enough to say no

when the only thing complimented is my body

when I'm told that I'll never be enough

when I know his intentions are never good

when I'm silenced out of fear

and forced into agreement

when my voice has dissolved into the air

like a cool mist in the early morning

when I allow myself to believe the empty words

and when I think still of your cologne

and what it means to me

even when you don't remember my name

The truth though, remains

© 2013 Delilah

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Author's Note

I don't know was writing a story but my computer shut down and lost it so out of frustration turned it into a poem.

My Review

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Reviews

Antoñyo

"turned it into a poem..." I'm glad you did or I probably would not have had the pleasure...
This is an awesome write (for me, anyway) that made me say as a first reaction, "'bout damn time."
I even feel your "frustration" of losing the story in it and it adds. But for me, it's the words said
that few others would even think of because...(to be continued)

Into my favorites for this
Thanks for the share