Silently she sits
on the edge
of a musty, gray-linened bed,
feet splayed wide,
skirt draped on battered knees.
Brown bottle rolls empty
on the floor
(tinkle,
tinkle)
Chin couched
in a scarred palm,
while with the other hand
she throws
darts
at her portrait on the wall.
Thursday, January 19, 2006
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3 comments:
... been to this place many times before... it left me quarter blind and I still have the scars, both outside and in. Just reading this takes me back there...
Savannah - beautiful doesn't seem right - but Vivid, vivid does it the best justice I can!
Anon~
Sorry to hear that. I hope all is well now. :)
Dennie~
Vivid is what I wanted -- poignant, perhaps even painful imagery.
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