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Careless
by Laura DoomCleansed of decoration, she is evanescent
like aftermath of fire,
her skin the texture of smoke
seeping a stifled glow of smothered moon.
A shade beyond pre-raphaelite pallor
this portrait of faded attraction
will not be touched by anyone.
Her eyes confess disquiet
of disappointments kept,
disoriented landscape strewn
with still-life silhouettes,
the fruitless memories
that abandoned her
in a drought of tears.
Such things no longer matter.
They are unpalatable details
painted in discoloured water,
brushed carelessly under the canvas.
She has no present, no presence.
This space she occupies is not personal.
Its air, once vibrant,
intoxicated with desire,
tight with frustration,
is now hung-over, dull with despair
and chokes upon her stale breath.
She stares absently at her cocktail,
waiting for time to be called.
Beneath caring, she wants for nothing,
detached from the reality
of her senseless purpose.
The ghost of a smile
drifts across her mouth,
sharpens her lips,
whets her appetite for misadventure.
Constrained by apprehension,
she swallows the dregs of her pride,
and lays herself
at the entrance to her hollow dream,
the tunnel at the end of the light. 12/22/2003 Posted on 12/22/2003
Copyright © 2024 Laura Doom
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Max Bouillet on 12/22/03 at 07:36 PM There is a fading of vibrancy to this piece. The brights fading into darkness with the only light emmerging being the one at the end of the tunnel. I take this as a constant removal of options with only a fatal one being left. Dark and a tad bit hopeless. Great word choices accentuate this effect with painful perfection. Very well crafted. |
| Posted by Nadia Gilbert Kent on 12/26/03 at 01:26 AM (this has nothing to do with the lovely poem, but) I love your pen name. It's right up there with Julie Ruin and Johnny Rotten. |
| Posted by Michelle Angelini on 12/27/07 at 05:11 AM I'm not sure what drew me into this poem, but I feel like you're writing about a long-ago me, more than 28 years ago. Either I know this woman or she is me. This is a sad tragedy that could go either way - all the way to hopelessness or to the light of hope where dreams become realized and lives like these become vivid memories that keep one on a path where going back is not an option.
~Chelle~ |
| Posted by Clara Mae Gregory on 10/07/14 at 02:11 PM *stellar* timeless universality of our relative existance within our humanity! |
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