Lavender clung to Grammy like a familiar blessing,
a soft aura rising from her walk-in closet~
that kingdom of faux furs and pearlized buttons
where dresses hung like quiet stories waiting to be told.
I sat beside her at her dressing table,
watching the slow choreography of her bronze-brown hair
as she brushed it into its practiced sweep,
each stroke a reminder of the elegance she carried
long after her hand-model days had faded from magazines.
She tore two sheets of paper poudre,
handing one to me as if passing down a secret rite.
“Gently,” she said, and I followed her movements,
feeling the powder lift whatever childhood dust remained
from my ten-year-old cheeks, leaving them soft, matte, new.
Foundation, rouge, a whisper of plum on her lips~
then her porcelain hands folded mine inside them,
their warmth steady, their touch feather light.
“You’re a lady now,” she said; in that moment, I believed her~
believed I was becoming her lady-in-waiting,
one beautiful enough to be part of her gracious royalty.
At first, I was all about the blue
Age slowly turned me to the red
For a while, black was all that would do
And that coloured everything I said
The lines washed away in the sand
With a little bit of this and that
This prince's rain fell with even hand
Cut greener grasses, rendered matte
glitter
ornamental, scintillent
glistening, embellishing, exciting
disco ball, costume, paint, beige
calming, quieting, blending
mature, understated
matte
The roller left a wet
Textured topography
On the drywall
A fresh
Continent
Of liquid chalk
Under a steady
Unblinking gaze
The gloss begins to warp
The fumes carry
A quiet hum, a frequency
That unlatches the deadbolt of the mind
My eyes
Track
A single, rebellious drip
A slow-motion comet
Cutting through
A matte sky
In the five seconds
It takes
To drop an inch
I have built
A city
In my head
Lived a lifetime
Inside a song
I forgot the title of
And wondered
If the sky
Feels this heavy right before it rains
The perimeter is curing now
Turning dull
At the edges
By the time
This surface
Loses its shine
I will have traveled
Lightyears
And forgotten my way back
We would be getting married tomorrow.
If only December me knew what I know.
I would have put more thought into that
And realized I needed glossy, not matte.
Has my body forgotten your touch,
And my heart, that adrenaline rush?
Has my mind moved on from the distrust
From what always felt less want than must?
The thing we had was fun and free
But I think you lost you, and I lost me.
Now we’re finding ourselves out again
Taking time to find what we didn’t know then
And I could finally wake up and feel peace without you here
When I realized how long you had stopped wanting me near.
I’m relieved that we aren’t tying the knot;
It was never meant to be, and whatnot.
So tomorrow I think I’ll remember who I was
And be grateful for who I am with applause
There’s only One who deserves the credit
For the woman I am because of your exit.
I hope that you’re healing and doing well.
Hearts are resilient, our love gone like we never fell.
—Blackout.
\ rewind \\
9pm,
my messy curls sizzled
as chemicals
flow down the drain—
raven,
to matte purple.
Each strand a minute
I forced
straight
with smoldering iron.
>> glitch
1am,
Hair unraveled
against the shuddering wall
The taste of heated whiskey
falt
er ing
from our lips
Rusty red smudged
on neon-lit chins—
He muttered, “Your hair looks better at night.”
I replied—
—Blackout,
(sigh)
\ rewind ?
at the traffic stop, where good meets bad.
a trickle of sweat runs down, you're not guilty, so you get mad.
you bicker and bicker, but to no avail, the bat in the blue badge made up his mind
you had no reason to overreact, the rage has made you blind.
i have a body in the backseat of my matte black car.
if i act accordingly, surely there's no way i get caught, i can take this thing far.
an inviting eye, and a smile that blinds his eye, the opposition has been fooled.
the fate that had awaited me, has sadly but unironically been overruled.
"i didn't do it" vs "i'm having a good day" was never a fair fight.
nobody with the correct moral compass to tell what is wrong and what is right.
the anger and spite in your voice has trapped you, an innocent soul trapped away, nobody to care.
sometimes the villain wins by doing nothing, and sadly, but unironically their bad deeds leave no one to spare.
Sea Glass 7-11-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sea Glass
On strands and shoals, waves of rolling tides,
Neither pro nor biased,
Tumble castoff vessels, emptied of purpose,
Into scattered shards of sharp amber remnants
Piercing tender soles.
Bits of blue and green edges,
Rub up against mica’s pearls,
Refined by fool’s gold -
Brokenness in metamorphosis
By stoic tidal pulses
And lurching tide’s undulations.
Discarded gypsies from bonfire’s passions
Laughter, nostalgia and desolate strolls
Gestating in a matte chrysalis,
Life’s thesaurus honed into shapeless dregs
By gritty fingers rising
From the cold fire of the abyssal plains.
Written: February 13, 2023
____________________________________________
An anathema for,
pilose nettle burns,
an art form of unstable feathers,
tropes across the ivory cuticles.
Melted mascarpone in a figurine,
pearlescent obsidian,
hooping sapped spirit,
sight of the blue sky.
within her boneless flesh,
the artist grumbles severely,
in a strained, velvety voice,
jumping into the air.
Prima picture goes away,
with feeble equine acclaim,
the nest of the forlorn swan,
embracing an ethereal dawn.
Whimsical soprano,
barely etched in matte black,
diploid remains,
a flawless fleck of fascinating fright.
Rakish Requiem for an,
unrequited magnum opus,
rushing on pinewood stains,
on the cusp of collapse.
As she droops on the ladder,
the impresario draws the
opera curtains closer,
while soothing music,
numbs her toes.
When Requiem strolls,
across the stage to the tune of
Mozart pianissimo,
he manages to pull off,
fulfills a task with accuracy.
2nd place contest winner
She’s a thrown compact
shattering a vase;
She is the flower
that is still standing;
Perfect matte lipstick;
Targeted wall,
it cannot hide;
A foaming pout,
feminine rage;
Fire flashes;
Estrogen,
no factor;
You’re rude,
now she’s
pissed.
A life moves on
The empty space
A vacancy
The smile missed face
The heartfelt ache
The hopeful joy
Of knowing birds
Must wings deploy
The silent cloak
Of no-one there
Is draped on shoulders
Poised to bear
A voice, a note
Would lift the heart
Small gesture to
The soul impart
Some comfort
In the knowing that
The gloss of memory
Not turned to matte
For vibrant is
The emptiness
Highlighting your
Full presence, yes
And more
Despite the heartache burn
It waits with Love
For your return
Is there anybody out there
I can only see my face in the forefront preflection
Of the passed, away on vacation until all comes cross
Is she really on the page or on the screen an AI model
Stockings stocking to no avail
Preferably a real lady, married, a couple of kids, nah
He enters the mainstream understanding orifices procession
Pro to nothing concrete all absolutes don't exist
Clean and not heard
The genius in him should talk to the mirror
Instead of a gun shot plying the thought of Gmail account
Accessible bypass crude
Why sense the tasteful callipyge stragglers told too
In her scent he can find a thousand Dani Daniels Krissy Lynn Jane Marie, she'd just another troubadour old fantasy
Reality overweight overwhelms filly folly breads hvvgfnbdg
*** VV bukkake Bukowski travels by and nothing taken for granted Lego logorrhée Times Square sexshop where a dude speaks East Timorian does it really count what the guy said on the corner of the contents of the wall Pao chicken breast
Oh, I have things that mean a lot to me,
and it would make me so sad to lose them;
but, are they priceless in reality,
what is priceless- is my kitty cat gem.
It began as just taking care of her,
my sister was moving to a new home;
the days, weeks and months went by like a blur,
kitty checked all things in a daily roam.
We became devoted to each other,
so, I declared ... I am keeping this cat;
this kitty considers me her mother,
my sister said- her fur will shed and matte.
I brush her, play and cuddle her each day;
she is "priceless" to me in every way!
_______________________
December 24, 2022
Poetry/Sonnet/Priceless to Me
Copyright Protected, ID 12-1511-954-24
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France
Written for the Premiere contest, Priceless
sponsor, Regina McIntosh, Judged 01/01/2023
Fifth Place
Ah, we ladies never have enough!
Foundations in all shades.
Forever~ in new forms.
Cleansers that promise us youth.
Softeners that hide wrinkles.
Lipsticks, a source of confusion.
Creamy, matte, or gloss?
For me, it is all delusion.
A rainbow of colors for my eyelids.
Is it really me I present?
Or a manufacturers's disguise.
4/21/2021
There was a young girl who danced with her cat,
but she just wanted to comb out a matte;
they would whirl, swirl, twirl and spin,
a contest neither would win;
exhausted- on the floor they lay quite flat !
____________________
February 21, 2021
Poetry/Limerick/The Cat Dance
Copyright Protected, ID 02-
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
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