It’s been a long time since I’ve participated in Mama Kat’s Writer’s Workshop, but this week’s prompts couldn’t be ignored. I chose 3.) Write a poem about a time you felt betrayed.
Sexy and beautiful — magical words to insecure girls.
Beautiful enough for magazines.
Promises of fame.
$200 to the photographer who lies.
Creepy man on the subway with a camera, yes.
The promise of fame.
Fat fingers between legs.
Fathers in next rooms.
It was just supposed to be pictures.
Say nothing. Get the fame.
This is not art.
Just let it happen, baby, smile.
This is how you get to the top, baby, smile.
This is the cost of fame, baby. Turn this way and smile.
You greedy fame wanter.
You didn’t say stop; it is your fault.
You let it happen; it is your fault.
Dumb ass never even got proofs.
Twenty-one years does not erase it.
And fame never comes.