“Cynthia”
“Cynthia”
By Peter D. Oliver
cynthia wears fake pearls
it’s like a beacon for the boys
to buy her a drink
and moisten their talons
in her ever aging loins
her mind goes to a place
a million fathoms deep
that place inside all of us
where we let our little child sleep
any given night
she’s reposed in some man’s bed
but only after they got theirs
and done a tap dance on her head
sliently she hates them
and silently she prays
but always does she please them
and in so many artful ways
cynthia only drives at night
her mercedes ten years old
out of money
out of friends
she frequently crosses the line
but only when it’s vacant
she doesn’t really wanna die
she only wants to have someone
to share the years as they slowly pass her by
she’s dubbed herself “the Zombie”
plays piano when she’s high
cuts too much
reads to much
talks too much for some
only smiles when christians die
and orphans find a home
she plays canary in the coal mine
tries everything first
then has to fast on every tuesday
to purge her mind with hunger and with thirst
down a libertine river she floats
while taking poison for her mind
cynthia always with the valium
proxy for the love she knows she’ll never find
Casandra while she’s typing
or crying in the bath
but there’s no one there to hear
here’s where she pulls the trigger
to rise above her wrath.
© 2007 Peter D. Oliver
To contact Peter, email StPeter91(at)msn.com