They wrote about me in their magazines.
They only showed photos of me and you smiling.
They only remembered the perfect scenes.
She was jealous and he was not lying, no,
Just wondering where the passion grew obscene.
They painted you with the purity of snow,
They framed your photos, called them evergreen.
My face was dimly lit in your final show.
And they called me a monster for being mean,
Tried to kill me with vultures and crows.
They wrote about me in their magazines.
They only showed photos of me and you smiling.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 