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5 Stories of a Girl Called Life
(whata) flame
-a handheld th/fl/ing
child-friendly ;;
they have safeties for that
you know…
or so they say ;;
a th/fl/ing that sparks an ember,
(falselydecoratedbeingthatis)
with black Jacks on the side,
is brought home from work-
its future BRIGHT
and full of LIfE
“whatashame…”
to be tucked between couch cushions
unremembered in the frayed fabric of morning
while Somewhere Not Here
a
dealer
is laying out the cards
(-amatchlesscardwithfadingcolor-)
you have to play
Make. A. Move.
Raise. The. Stakes.
“whatayasay?”
giving those eyes that scandal eyes
thinking, while
pulling down a painted thumb –
smoke pouring through painted lips,
the dealer always wins.
lighting Spirits as steadily as drawing
moths to a flame,
loosening lips and belts.
the lighter shclicking playfully
guiding the way to a few new tricks
and a predetermined tip
OR, well,
NIGHT-
LIFE-
goes on and, already,
she wants to tangle that
egotistic
unappreciative jerk up in the
delicate and bony
prongs of her hands.
A drink, A-nother,
A drink, A-nother.
A cigarette, A-nother,
A cigarette, A-nother.
A sleek black dress,
stained with self-doubt and
a bed that,
repeatedly
(maybenotsomodestly)
falling,
creaks
up and down and up and down.
S i l e n c e :
fumbling and sloshing through it
she goes,
searching shadow-draped walls,
“Someone?Anyone?God D*** it
(hidingunderclosedeyes)
AnsweR me!”
Shivering- because
she doesn’t feel that
it’s cold business,
it’s cold, it’s unbelievably
f*******
so / cold
(
all
alone
)
without words.
with a dying dream.
and everyone else seems to know something that she doesn’t:
-TIME
AFTER
-TIME
RUNS
OUT
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This article has 2 comments.
A Great Work, I read the poem twice and your poetry provoked thought and reflection. Nice Work,,,
Thank You…….. Phil
i really like the concept, but the poem itself is somewhat confusing..
~ILYA~
Feedback and comments appreciated :)