This poem stays close to my mind, always.

The Mundane

In her eyes, the desire to win hearts
the limitations of being a frail woman.
And as she passes the powder puff over her sunken cheekbones,
a rolling diadem sparkles,
outlines the blinking charm beneath her forehead.
Arched brows, defined lips.
So often called seductive, so tenderly kissed.
Bites them and clings to the mirror.
‘Why?’
Gives herself a steady gaze.
‘Who’s the fairest of them all?’
Walks through the corridor.
Confidently sinister, roughly appealing.
Climbs down the oak carved staircase.
Staggering steps, a dizzy vision.
Lustrous night black hair falling on ivory shoulders.
Makes herself a vodka shot. Old school.
Gulps it down her burning troat.
Lights the cigarette and watches the smoke rising, in childlike awe.
Shuts tight the angel eyes once again.
Mystery personified.

View original post

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s