The Girl in Black

To the girl dolled up

with headphones hung effortlessly

about her neck.


Did your nose piercing hurt

with the sting of disapproval?

Did the ink flowers etched in your arms

prick with the blood of disappointment?


I ask because,

standing beneath the yellow bulb

in the hubbub of a pub

at nine pm, in an evening dress,

black kohl and burgundy lipstick

drawing eyes from all sides,

I, think you look beautiful.


I envy the smile you wear

plastered joy and nonchalance,

like Winter’s breath, the cool air

wrapped around your waltz

through the double doors,

shoulders poised without care.


I ask, because as others stare,

to me you look happy and I,

I think you look beautiful.


Image credit. 

8 thoughts on “The Girl in Black

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