Her Face.
If i were try to describe her features, I'm sure that you would not understand.
pretty, a pretty girl. Ugly, an ugly girl. Pictures in your mind that do nothing but morph and twist into an image of what you believe i must be referencing.
Think to when you overheard a conversation in a language you couldn't quite place. Loud voices carry, demanding attention.
This is her face.
To the last time you broke a rule imposed on you by a commercialized coffee company, buying the coffee simply because you cannot bring your own.
This is her face.
The last time you had a bitter realization about the future direction of someone you loved. Understanding the passing of time, realizing the stagnancy of the content people around you.
This is her face.
Or the last time you fell in love with a stranger over a flick of butane, gazing for moment into each others eyes, dying to know the mind that rests behind them, to never be seen again.
This is her face.
Her face is something foreign. her face is blatant restriction. her face is a dark perspective. her face is missed opportunity.
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What drew me into this piece is the repetition, which is the point, I suppose, but it works really well.
ReplyDelete"Pictures in your mind that do nothing but morph and twist into an image of what you believe i must be referencing." If I were to read this piece in a book or something, I would highlight this. It stands out to me and makes me think, "ooooh..."
I like this poem, I think it works really well. I like the closing line and the way it wraps up what has been said previously, but sounding fresh. You picked interesting details to tie to "her face." i like it
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