Monday, December 5, 2011

Bane and Thievery

She knows every name.
She remembers.
All of them.
Every individual soul who has ever said it.
On even days, she sighs with a bit of pity,
Thinking,
Oh, how I have fooled them. Fooled them all.
On odd days, she blinks twice and smiles,
Thinking,
Yes, I know.
Then there are days
Neither even nor odd
The slipped days, the hidden ones
The days the mirror reflects
When she is sure its definition has its very own M.O.
Threatening some underhanded ploy
When the ones who matter most
Light that candle
And walk away.
Reflections then turn navy blue
Trace the lines but tell no truth
Balance on a pinhead of honeyed words
False flavor but a dead-end road.
Turn and pose.
Wrinkled nose.
The clock screams ten.
Over again.
That girl won’t move
Until you do.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Bewildered Bug challenged me with "What is beautiful is not necessarily good" and I challenged Lisa with "Without referencing your age, birth date, town you grew up in, your job, and whether or not you are a parent, answer the question "Who are you?"

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3 comments:

  1. as per usual you have managed to take words and make them your slaves. when I read them I become lost in a world that seems so real and there are times I do not want to leave it.

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  2. This is fantastic! Thank you for sharing it with us!

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  3. Then there are days neither even nor odd -
    I love this. There is so much to be discovered here. It demands to be read again and again.

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