Your pictures flashed through Facebook

looking like the good friend that you’ve made yourself to be.

No we’re not FB friends – I chose it that way;

they were posted by a common friend.

I should have not looked but curiosity got the best of me much to my chagrin.

Flashes of the past marched right in

and a black hole settled in my middle.

You looked like an angel but I know what lies behind

that pseudo-beatific facade.


The memories came fast and furious, whirling around me,

suffocating me,

smothering me in gloom and despair.

You pulled at the strings like a master puppeteer

bending people to your will

your petty whims,

pushing them to give and give

while you took everything without a soupcon of remorse.

You left nothing but a bone-dry soul

and a gaping hole in the chest.

When pleading eyes looked at you for mercy

you flashed your signature Cheshire cat grin

and sashayed away.


You weaved stories endlessly

tying them together to suit your need.

You carefully layered lie after lie

until there was no way to know the truth.

You demanded loyalty but turned your back on it;

you demanded respect but belittled everyone, buying their admiration

with a few dollars, a well-place comment, a ruby-red pout and a Zara-inspired décolletage.

You stood for sisterhood,

rooting for collective cooperation only to disparage it behind their backs.

Your lexicon only recognised narcissism.


They saw you as a beautiful angel but I know otherwise.

I’ve got my own set of pictures of you.



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