Lucy Couldn’t Say No (6/7/15)

This is very rough, I will possibly refine this later.

It was summer, and Lucy was eight
She was called to by Marie and Kate:
“Lucy, won’t you come and play?”
She knew she shouldn’t go through the gate
And mother would hate her being out so late
But Lucy, she just couldn’t say no.

Fourteen years old, she stayed out all night
Didn’t come home till the sky was bright
She wandered back in her dress so white
He’d touched her there without an invite
When he’d checked that there was nobody in sight
Because Lucy, she hadn’t said no.

When Lucy had just turned eighteen
She met a man with eyes of green
“Miss Lucy, will you marry me?”
She ‘um’ed and ‘ah’ed, not to be mean
After all, he did seem rather keen –
And Lucy, she just couldn’t say no.

When Lucy, she was thirty-two
She bought a pretty dress of blue.
“It’s whorish, what is wrong with you?”
Her husband made her go out to
The garbage, trash that dress so new
And Lucy, she just couldn’t say no.

When Lucy, she was forty four
A man came knocking at the door
“I can’t stay away any more.”
He had been her lover before.
She didn’t want him any more
But Lucy, she just couldn’t say no.

One day there were footsteps on the floor
She pushed her lover to the bathroom door.
But her husband knew the score,
The door burst open with his anguished roar,
And she stood and let him call her a whore,
Because Lucy, she just couldn’t say no.

When Lucy’s husband finally passed
They asked why her mourning didn’t last
She’d gotten over it awfully fast.
“Do you miss him?” they all would ask.
And she would nod, her eyes like glass
Because Lucy, she just couldn’t say no.

When Lucy, she was eighty-nine
They asked her for the final time
“Did you get all you wanted in life?”
And Lucy smiled, and Lucy cried
And without an answer, Lucy died
Because Lucy, she just couldn’t say no.

One thought on “Lucy Couldn’t Say No (6/7/15)

  1. KasimsKorner says:

    Woah. Okay in terms of poetry, I usually like something that’s easily relatable, but damn. This was incredible. I’m not even just saying that as a compliment, I really liked this. It felt like a poem written by a well-known poet, but it had a dark gritty feel. Although I don’t do poetry myself, I write some short stories (and I’m writing a novel), I’d be honoured to get some feedback from you. I’ve followed your blog, can’t wait for more like this. Thanks for the very dark, but enjoyable read.

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