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Francs and Fake Friendliness

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lalkaleliel

PostPosted: Thu Aug 19, 2010 2:26 pm


Francs and Fake Friendliness
She seemed to spend a lot of wake and wealth on sullen secrets.
A still, sad heart at a waited table, observing the cafe.
And while she blinked her sighs she tapped her fingers on the wood-top
and listened to her tepid conscience passing by the day.
She churned her coffee white while tasting pictures of the dusk
that danced to a too-dirty samba of a woven wide array.
She picked his hair off of her sweater,
bought a scone, with nothing better
to fill up a schedule on such a gray and such a dusty day.

During the light there’s nothing that can
surmount to nights with a married man.
PostPosted: Sat Aug 28, 2010 2:38 pm


xx_Spazztic Unicorn_xx
Francs and Fake Friendliness
She seemed to spend a lot of wake and wealth on sullen secrets. [I love this line; way to open a poem!]
A still, sad heart at a waited table, observing the cafe.
And while she blinked her sighs [This part really makes me imagine the expression on her face. I've never heard it said like this before, so it is both beautiful and original.] she tapped her fingers on the wood-top
and listened to her tepid conscience passing by the day. [This line just makes her personality stand out more. I like it.]
She churned her coffee white while tasting pictures of the dusk
that danced to a too-dirty samba of a woven wide array.
She picked his hair off of her sweater, [Made me wonder if she was stood up, or if he's gone, or what the deal was.]
bought a scone, with nothing better
to fill up a schedule on such a gray and such a [I also like how you end this...] dusty day.

During the light there’s nothing that can
surmount to nights with a married man.
...and then you throw the last bit in there, and it does what a poem should do (well, depending on the situation); create a whole story with only a few words. I liked how you also didn't throw that story in all at once.

I don't really have anything else to say, on what you can improve; sorry. You wrote a beautiful poem.


Chigotsa

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