Flapper

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Yellow rays
Fall upon a stone figure.
She wears scarlet,
A matching headband
With a drooping feather.
There she stands,
In her scuffed pumps,
In the rain,
Her hair wetted straight,
Her dress weighted with water.
Her face is hard,
With a deep gash
Of sadness.
Her verdant eyes,
Plush with lashes,
Stare straight into the past,
Despite the sting and mess
Of melting blacks on
Her cheek;
Her chestnut locks
Hanging pathetically
In sticky shambles
To her shoulders and
Milky neck.
Rain and fog
Conceal her,
Keeping her like a ghost of old.

Brought
And dumped
Under a street lamp,
Much like myself,
On a night
Much like tonight.

It hasn't stopped
Raining yet,
I notice,
While I stand alone,
Abused under the street lamp.

I watch her from across
The street,
Standing naked
As the yellow fog consumes her.

We share the same fate.

Created: Feb 10, 2011

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