Collecting Feathers

She sat at the corner of the bar
most nights, smiling at any
man that might glance her way.
Age and bad habits had
defeated the plastic surgeons,
mocking the beauty she was.
Now it was garish make-up,
overdone hair, smoking lines
at the corner of her mouth and
the slack skin that comes from
thinking thin and pretty are the same.
She breathed lonely into the room,
confident that by last call there would
be a man, any man, willing to give her a
glimpse of desire sufficient to fill the night.
The bartender kept her glass full,
saddened by what used to amuse him.
Now, he thought of her as fallen —
a molting angel trying to glue on lost
feathers, knowing it was not enough.

Written for the Poets United Prompt dealing with feathers. Just a little dark for the subject matter…but that is what I do.

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7 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

7 responses to “Collecting Feathers

  1. Wow! You captured this well.

  2. omg I sooo know this person lol!

    Now it was garish make-up,
    overdone hair, smoking lines
    at the corner of her mouth

    love this!

  3. If this were basketball, it’d be a 3 point shot. Nice one.

  4. Your dark prose has hit the mark. Sad yet true to form of depicting lost desire

  5. So well written, and darkly lit like a bar and sad like the last call…

  6. You have painted such a vivid image of this poor soul. Well done!

  7. Oh this is simply FANTASTIC. Especially “fallen – a molting angel trying to glue on lost feathers, knowing it was not enough.” You have painted her so well.

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

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