She contemplates bangs,
a different color, hair
as reinvention.
Salon visit
Reply
She contemplates bangs,
a different color, hair
as reinvention.
She contemplates bangs,
a different color, hair
as reinvention.
Trying to make work
indulgent, a nine-to-five
wage slave’s fantasy.
Like eyes heavy with
grief, grey clouds spill a steady
patter of sorrow.
Pulling apart a
life together, the future
frays like a cut edge.
It happens over
coffee, one stunned, the other
already elsewhere.
She woke up seeing
him in a different light
flame sputtering out.
“There’s always rain at
the most appropriate times
in my life,” he wrote.
Meeting tomorrow.
Haven’t even opened it.
That’s life on the edge.
based on a poem written by M.
They say I need a
man. Chocolate. But an eye
lash curler’s enough.
original source:
I don’t need chocolate to eat or a man in my life
I just think I do
because of the media
All I really need is my eyelash curler.
Hives. Itching. As if
her body can’t coexist
with her sense of self.