There are 303 articles on this title. You are reading the article ranked and rated #10 by Helium's members.
WASTED GIRL
She stood outside the motel room,
her head resting wearily on the door.
Her skin was pale and blue-veined,
and her haunted eyes darted
from me to the floor.
Her man of the hour fumbled
with the key,
his thick gold bracelet swinging
in the air.
She clung to the wall
with a claw-like hand,
and fixed me with a vacant stare.
Her blue jeans clung
to birdlike legs,
dragging beneath feet
that were dirty and bare.
There was no softness or luster
that clung to the locks
of her dull blond hair.
No plump curve of shoulder
or soft swell of breast,
no smooth rounded bottom,
and no hope for rest.
Only bones and sharp angles
of a wasted girl waiting
as he finally unlocked the door.
She slid through hers,
I went through mine,
and I saw the girl no more.
Learn more about this author, Tina Dene.
Click here to send this author comments or questions.
Below are the top articles rated and ranked by Helium members on:
"Dad" An Addict's Life
Our poor dad, he looks so frail
It really is such a shame.
His mind is now gone,
He doesn't even know
Stupid high
where did you go?
you used to be spectacular.
what happened to the parties and all of the glamour?
my pockets full
by T. Matzke
This is my poem to you, little brother
The first poem; the last poem.
The poem that says I don't want to cry for you.
You, with
There's No Turning Back
There was no turning back, I closed my eyes and let it take me
The memories of when I was me faded
Now you'll want, but you won't need.
Now the fight begins.
The dark inside wants to reclaim you.
Now we'll see who wins.
Draw
View All Articles on:
Poetry: Drug addiction
Add your voice
Know something about Poetry: Drug addiction?
We want to hear your view.
Write now!
Featured Partner
Capitol News Connections (CNC)
Capitol News Connection (CNC) is an independent and innovative multimedia news service that brings politics home' wit...more
hide