...persistent hope like
a flower in the ashes;
she cradles her soul...
It's 11:11, a sixty second wish
mouthed to morning's crippled sun
by lips in their totality unclean,
coupled with a tear in the name
of self made love the pain
slowly dissolves into nothing more
than a darker shade of grime
on this concrete floor,
every crack and dip mapped out
in her unsteady mind.
A tattoo gun whirs,
stopping and starting to the rhythm
of classic rock and static
echoing around the garage from
a cheap car stereo.
Tobacco smoke mingles
with the fumes of gasoline and oil
creating an intoxicating mix;
but this is her familiar.
The aroma twirls its fragile fingers
in her raspberry accented curls
sinking its comforting arms
into a well worn leather jacket,
pleasant memories to be easily recalled
with a quick turn and attuned senses.
1 month ago
4 comments:
I love it. I read it several times. I wish for great things such as this during my 11:11's. Thank you!
Another classic:) I still have some figuring out to do, but, in the meanwhile, I'm loving this:
"...persistent hope like
a flower in the ashes;
she cradles her soul... and
"The aroma twirls its fragile fingers in her raspberry accented curls.."
"The aroma twirls its fragile fingers
in her raspberry accented curls
sinking its comforting arms
into a well worn leather jacket,
pleasant memories to be easily recalled
with a quick turn and attuned senses..."
your work moves fast and the images conjured are clear. wonderful post.
Thanks Nick for coming by and taking the time to read it several times...much obliged ! Hope your wishes come true :)
And Nancy, sorry I've been away for so long, school and some family stuff has taken up most of my time lately...but I hope to be back in full form by the end of this week :)
Truck Stop Rewrite welcome and thank you so much for the lovely comment :)
Hope the three of you have a great week :)
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