Poetry Writing

peaches and planes

Her hands were always so soft, like
peach fuzz warm from the afternoon sun
in springtime.

The twenty rings spread across her ten
slender fingers tap dance along the pages
of the book she holds.

The planes are all meant to crash, she says
as she lets her brain march through the sands
of Mexico.

Here coke and lime is warm next to her,
condensation spreading as she questions why
life does little more than hurt.

via *

7 Comments

  • D

    oh wow, that's beautiful. it seems a bit different from what you normally write.. lighter, somehow. i love how you can adapt your writing a little to paint a whole different picture, yet stay close to your own writing style. you're amazing 🙂

    Reply
  • little moon lover

    I liked this… so many things in common with me, I'm imagining it is me…. yes… why, oh why does life do a little more than hurt?
    xoxo

    Reply
  • Maija

    "the planes are all meant to crash." goodness, yes. xx

    Reply
  • -blessed holy socks

    Precisely why I had my epiphany:

    Wanna see a perfectly cognizant, fully-spectacular, Son-ripened-Heaven?? … yet, I’m not sure if we're on the same page if you saw what I saw. Greetings, earthling. Because I was an actual NDE on the outskirts of the Great Beyond at 15 yet wasn’t allowed in, lemme share with you what I actually know Seventh-Heaven’s Big-Bang’s gonna be like: meet this advanced, bombastic, ex-mortal Upstairs for the most extra-groovy-paradox, pleasure-beyond-measure, Ultra-Yummy-Reality-Addiction in the Great Beyond for a BIG-ol, kick-ass, party-hardy, robust-N-risqué-passion you DO NOT wanna miss the sink-your-teeth-in-the-smmmokin’-hot-deal. Cya soon…

    Reply
  • AVY

    Yes, it's different but still you, and your comments are always more than welcome. Thank you darling.

    Reply
  • lacey

    great descriptions! i like the part about peach fuzz. 🙂

    Reply

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