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A collection of poetry that has recieved four stars or more at writing.com |
The cab slows to a stop under the veil of constant rain, It’s yellow paint worn like the gloss on her lips, Her eyes discomforted by its approach, She longed for her escape For the chariot to come and whisk her away from the pain, Her freshly permed hair destroyed by inner-city moisture, Her heart destroyed by inner-city apprehensions, Her life nothing but another desolate vision As I watch from a distance As I look closer I notice the mascara, Applied with the delicate care of sensuous anxiety for passion, Now ran her cheeks like Nubian tears; "Nubian tears from a Nubian queen" A beautiful black dress, freshly pressed and accented with love’s caress, Was now drenched and tattered in another man’s instantaneous regret; "Nubian tears from a Nubian queen" Her heels, carefully hand-picked and charged with the intent of turning heads, Were now in her hands dangling from her like heavy emotions on a broken ledge Destined to slip And fall into the brown puddles of despondency surrounding her "Nubian tears from a Nubian Queen" She reaches for the door of her chariot, Opens it, and suddenly notices my eyes watching her Drown herself in gravely immense oceans; She gasps for air as she looks up at me with earnest, And her eyes gently whispers through the wind Help me And with that, she plunges into her chariot And rides away from the pain, for the pain, In search for another day To become Beautiful |