Tulle, Taffeta and Lace
Crying in a graveyard after darkin a spider web of taffeta, tulle and lace.
searching for an answer that
gravestones won't reveal.
Eighteen years and one half summer
She strives to find the answer
Lipstick lies, suggestive hips
So deep she can't uncover.
Dim lights and rock music
long, lacy mitts that stretched
like lonely widow peaks,
old before her years.
Smoke and dancing, patter
chatter, it really doesn't matter
the thud of base guitars and
tuneless souls that jar.
She rests on a tombstone
knowing ghosts don't fly,
its only just past midnight
but she knows she can't belong.
Crying though the alcohol
consumed by hidden grief
crying in a graveyard with her
back against the stone.
Tomorrow in the morning
filtered coffee and red eyes,
she'll pack away last night
tulle, taffeta and lace.
Poetry by Elle
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Written on 2014-02-08 at 17:24
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