A Touch of Red
By Silver Spun Sand
Thu, 27 Mar 2014
- 998 reads
6 comments
Each passing day, she dies a little bit more,
so why had she gone along with this charade?
A girls’ night out – just like old times; only not.
Why hadn’t she just told them she wasn’t up to it;
if chemo wasn’t a good enough excuse,
she didn’t know what else was.
Mirror in hand – winces at what she sees.
A little bit of powder, a little bit of paint
makes a girl’s complexion what it really ain’t.
Fat chance of that. Reality slapping you hard
in the face hurt, cut deeper by far,
than the surgeon’s knife.
The people she used to be...
the Dancing Queen – ponytail swinging...
the blonde bombshell as her dad had called her...
all dressed up in cap and gown, collecting
her degree – the bouffant-haired bride,
bouquet of columbine, and forget-me-nots,
where had they gone?
And where the fuck had he gone – her nearest
and dearest? Him – oh, he’d scarpered
right after her op, and right this moment,
probably grooming her replacement
for when she popped her clogs.
A tasselled scarf rasps – pulled
from the back of a rattan chair; green
with blue stripes, deftly winds it,
turban style around her head. Pinches
her cheeks, but the pallor stays.
What – no rosy apples today?
A mother’s words, come back to haunt her –
passed away last autumn...a lethal cocktail
of ignorance, denial and too much booze.
Suicide? You could say so, or
that her liver gave out.
Look on the bright side though, kid.
Life’s a bitch, but the beauty of it is,
it don’t last for ever.
A smidgeon of lipstick...a dab of rouge.
Yes. A touch, or two, of red
would see her through.
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Comments
You have an uncanny knack of
Permalink Submitted by Starfish Girl on
You have an uncanny knack of getting to the very heart of emotions using very few words.
This is so sad but the words are beautiful.
One to come back to.
Lindy
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This is heartbreaking.
Permalink Submitted by Ray Schaufeld on
This is heartbreaking. Elsie
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