Let Her Eat Cake…

She stops, sharp stiletto stance,
tracing her staccato steps before
twisting her hips, resoundingly inwards.

The ages of a woman –
yet what of them she asks?
Outside that time shall mark her
down –
Pastel outlines – with eyes that no longer denote
her primary shades of youthful play.

Belief restricted; bordering mundane
all outside edges, stained –
biting into yet another
mouthful; of her depressing,
comfort eating cake.


Poppy February 2104 ~xx~

2 thoughts on “Let Her Eat Cake…

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