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Dust
My white dress
Is always
Dirty
Is always
Crumpled in a heap
On the bathroom floor.
After late nights
Bobbing
My head
Sobbing
To sleep
From bluesy jazz concertos.
I stare at the dust on the mirror
with listless eyes
unable to turn the record off.
A/N: First write in quite awhile (Working on my novel). Hope you enjoy!
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...sorry.. as I was saying before the internet so rudely interrupted me ...
the most evocative image for me is the white dress, like when we hope so much for an idealised perfection and the reality of the occasion doesnt quite match up to it?
maybe im reading too much into it. LOL |
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Comment by: akabinny Online- 2008-04-14 12:37
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Thanks, both of you.
My motif for the last stanza was that the character, unable to turn the record on, now cannot sleep, and is stuck in a state of limbo, if that makes any more sense. |
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| I'm not familiar with your work but will read more. the last idea grated with me a bit as it felt to me like the thing would be with not being able to turn the record OFF rather than ON, as the lines suggested a feeling stuck in a groove, but hey thats just me, its fine as it is. |
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Comment by: astrum - 2008-04-13 20:33
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I did enjoy. I like it very much.
Good job. |
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