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Literature Text
She was a bent ended bottle rocket
yet every night the neon draws her in like a moth
a porcelain halo outlining her flaws
she starts slurring her Dylan drawl
the bartender marks a calendar counting out a comatose life
burning nights on unfamiliar floors
these days her face ages like a tree
each wrinkle a ring
we cut her down to know
she was born on a bull’s-eye
yet every night the neon draws her in like a moth
a porcelain halo outlining her flaws
she starts slurring her Dylan drawl
the bartender marks a calendar counting out a comatose life
burning nights on unfamiliar floors
these days her face ages like a tree
each wrinkle a ring
we cut her down to know
she was born on a bull’s-eye
Suggested Collections
boy oh boy
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Comments1
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the night life. the rural village
tavern, where the hardwood floors are
stained with the footsteps of people
that have been walking into it every
friday night for years...
"where everybody knows your name."
tavern, where the hardwood floors are
stained with the footsteps of people
that have been walking into it every
friday night for years...
"where everybody knows your name."