Faux Pas Passions
dropped like a stone into the conversation,sheer tactlessness as breaths are
sharply drawn and she knew from the
moment the words were uttered
notoriety would follow her
with a buzz at smartly laid and
well planned dinner parties.
It wasn't so much that she lied
but even truth can be applied
with a little less aplomb of
a misaimed bomb and the
heat that stained and strained
at her blouse matched the blush
of a flustered face and the
wine in her mouth turns
to ash in disgrace.
Until the serene calm of
the soup tureen, its ripples
barely felt as thick
creamy chatter and sultry patter
resumes around the table.
Perhaps a little over eager,
but making up for meagre
rations from the worst ever
kitchen for faux pas passions.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2014-05-03 at 17:24
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