Publicly published personal poetry
Poetry, I do suppose,
Is feeling molded into prose.
A metaphor or simile
And there you have it: poetry.
April 17, 2011
I see her but she has no face.
She seems so very out of place;
A pretty, nameless, faceless woman -
Standing like a mannequin.
The thought - the vision - haunts me still;
It nearly caused my blood to chill.
And though the memories are within,
My eyes still see the mannequin.
Her hairless head and unringed hand -
I know I'll never understand
What makes me wonder deep inside
If she's another model's bride.
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