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Painted Lady

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You take so much for granted,
Not the first time you'll hear those words.
With that $200 Gucci bag
And those snakeskin's heels,
Embroidered with Tahitian pearls.
You drive a Mercedes-Benz
And complain about the gasoline price.
You dine in exquisite bistros
And fail to leave a tip.
You order around assistants like slaves,
And never utter a thank-you.
And yet you mourn
For what you don’t have.
But what do you have?
Love?
Happiness?
Someone to call mine?
Neighbors complain
About the materialistic freak-next-door.
Flashing an emerald ring one morning,
And a diamond the next.
But the smug, better-than-you look
Is forever etched onto your
Painted lips.
But they frown so deeply
Every time you feel the empty space
Between your finger.
Thinking of what could have been.




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This article has 3 comments. Post your own!

LahariThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. said...
Oct. 29, 2011 at 11:39 am:
Whoever keeps rating this article a "1"STOP, okay? This poem is about to be PUBLISHED in a BOOK. So there. I'm sure thats better off than any of your work. 
 
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buggzbunnie said...
Mar. 30, 2011 at 9:20 pm:

i really like this

 

 
LahariThis teenager is a 'regular' and has contributed a lot of work, comments and/or forum posts, and has received many votes and high ratings over a long period of time. replied...
Mar. 30, 2011 at 9:23 pm :
Thank you! :)
 
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