after Susan Thomas <br /> <br />Truth is, my life was no fairytale, <br />that afternoon, I lay, a smiling corpse <br />under a glass sky, a rotten apple <br />lodged in my throat like a black lump <br />of cancer, your sloppy kiss dying on my lips. <br /> <br />Did you really believe a kiss could cure <br />the poison galloping through my veins, <br />as you stood there, with your ugly white horse, <br />the voices of dwarfs buzzing like flies <br />in the apple-scented air? <br /> <br />I wish you could see me now, <br />how I take to the sky, a witch <br />without a broom, an empty black silhouette <br />with stars for teeth, spooking deer <br />into briar patches, swallowing the shadows of trees, <br /> <br />I wish I could slip into my beautiful white flesh, <br />just once, my pretty white feet stuffed into black slippers, <br />my poisoned-breath fogging up the smiling mirror. <br />If only you could see the light pouring from my skin. <br />If only you could hear the songs my bones sing.<br /><br />Chris Tusa<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/snow-white-to-the-prince/
