The Impostor

Poem By Charley Powell

These aren't tears glistening on my eyelashes
No!
They're sequins, or Christmas lights sparkling.
My shoulders, shaking?
But that was simply laughter - I was never sobbing.

You must have seen that girl who pretends
to be me.
She's always hanging around with a downcast mouth
and glistening eyes.
But of course you know she's just an impostor.
You know this inanely grinning mask
Is the Real Deal.

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To wander among the headstones and pray.
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One, a young woman, much loved and revered

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This world is breaking out, pulling loose
Snapping free the bonds of daily existence
Making way for the new to arrive and arise,
To burst upon us like the great foaming wave

Glory Days

She comes in at a quarter to one that night,
A stumbling shadow in the slumbering hallway.
Through to the kitchen, lights are flicked on
Blazing ferociously as she squints mascara-streaked eyes.

Nearly Asleep Poem

I lie in a pool of thoughts
That seep into my pillow
From the bullet-sized hole in my consciousness.

Here Be Darkness

Here be darkness
Where the soul wallows in
its sordid little sins
And monsters doze.