a poem by Grace Brown
i sat and i waited
for the genie to come
my feelings of doubt
burned hotter than sun
like a fiery hell
or a forgotten place
the coldness she had
filled the empty space
i looked at the genie
and the genie crept upon me
inhaling her breaths
i started to freeze
she plagued me
with her words
and took over
my soul
my veins turned to ice
and my blood ran so cold
i was becoming
the genie
the genie wasn’t becoming
me
she told me three wishes
i could choose as i pleased
the fake hearted knew
and our love is now dying
if only you knew
i am the genie inside me.