The Forgotten Girl
There’s a loneliness to her style, it’s true.
No sense of direction or means of success.
A cautionary tale for men with no clue.
With icy tone skin too pale for beauty’s cue.
Thin lips in a frenzy too weak to impress.
There’s a loneliness to her style, it’s true.
A modern-day old maid hiding in plain view.
Dwelling in the shadows her heart can possess.
A cautionary tale for men with no clue.
Her bright swollen eyes that you can see right through.
One spare dusty tear full of ache and distress.
There’s a loneliness to her style, it’s true.
Shades of cruel shame she once breathed is all she knew.
Longing for a kiss and a lasting caress.
A cautionary tale for men with no clue.
The death of her lost soul she blames all of you.
But I see beauty in her broken progress.
There’s a loneliness to her style, it’s true.
A cautionary tale for men with no clue.
*I wrote this poem on January 5, 2024, as part of a ’30 days of poetry’ January challenge. This was day 5 and the prompt was: Write a villanelle poem with A- rhyme “few” and B- rhyme “press.”
Copyright © Courtney Hubbert | Year Posted 2024
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