Her heart beat pounds,
Inside the over sized chest,
Of someone who shouldn't be wearing a c-cup for another few years yet.
Blonde curls spiral down her face,
Covering but one shimmering blue eye,
And hitting the pale shoulders,
The curls settle.
She stares the the phone,
Just waiting for it to ring,
She lightly lets her painted black fingers drift over the keys,
Hoping somehow it'll make him call.
Impatiently she fidgets,
Crossing her denim clad legs,
Uncrossing them,
And then repeat for another 5 minutes,
She let her pink slippers drop off her tiny feet.
Un-persing her lipgloss covered lips....
"He's not going to call,
he's never going to call."
A contest entry
- body by Cat.
950 points, ended October 31, 2007, 9 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
Please tell me what you think
Comments
1 - 5 of 5
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wow, i loved this. it had a great desription and flow. good work. =D im looking forward to reading more of your work.
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i like that you definitely grasped the concept here with the descriptives. The piece is good and the anticipation builds. I would love to see you tweak out some of the hers and she's which have unecessarily burdened the poem weighing it down.
nice to find you in this contest
m -
He could still
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He did
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told you.
God, We're people of not many words are we?
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