So I am taking this poetry writing course this semester with Dr. D and my first assignment is to write a prose poem. The poem below is inspired by a true story, hope you like it.
Bitch’s Sidekick [working title]
Dear Z. Or it should probably be just Z; you are not that dear to me anymore. I know I swore that I would never talk to you again; I am writing this to tell you that you are not the only one who was lying. Remember when you asked me if those cheesy garlic bread are gonna make you fat, and I said no. I lied. Remember when you told me that my friend’s ugly girlfriend is much prettier than you, and I said don’t be ridiculous. I lied. Remember when that guy came up to you and said you looked hideous in that dress, and I said he’s just jealous. I lied. Remember when you told me that your face was so swollen from studying and lack of sleep and I said you never looked better. I lied. A puffer fish was never as puffy. Remember when you asked me if your make-up looked good and I said you looked amazing. I lied. A whore would have much classier make-up. Remember when I told you that you are smart and should not underestimate yourself. I lied. A conversation with a newly-born bunny would have been more fruitful. Remember when you told me that your boyfriend dumped you and I said it was not your fault. I totally lied. He is so out of your league and you deserve every little thing he did to you.
Z. You are the bitch’s sidekick. You will always be. That will never change. You cry with fake tears; sob louder for attention. You tell silly jokes, people laugh at you. You show off the knowledge in your potato head; you know nothing. Just when I thought you reached the bottom, you dived even deeper. You talk shit. You spread rumors. You start rumors. You tell lies. Then you go and try to hide. You will end up wrinkly and alone. You will end up with twenty-three cats. They stick around only for the food you give them. It sounds just about right. I will not get you out of this one. No one will get you out of this one. You had all your chances; you blew all of them. You have sunk so many ships; no one trusts to get on your boat. Everyone knows that you are as fake as Pamela Anderson’s implants. Everyone knows you sweet-talk them to get what you want. Everyone knows that you blab about them when they are not around. Everyone knows not to trust you; you are such a mouth. You thought you had everybody fooled. They know the truth about you. They know who you are. You are not that smart.
The truth is ugly. And so are you.