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:iconredwombat: More from RedWombat


Submitted on
June 30, 2008
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7 (who?)
The Lady With the Spider Eyes and Barista Smile Stealing

She has creme-crinkled eyes,
lined with dark lashes that remind me of teeth,
of the legs of spiders,
crawling out from those depths.
Those strange, almost unblinking depths.
But every flutter restructures my mind
back to the legs.

I wonder what kinds of flies,
she's caught with those traps.
Combined with the accents her lips produce,
when you don't pay too much attention.
The fact you're unaware,
makes her want to catch you more.

I sit before her,
faintly playing with a cigarette.
Black and cloves, filled, it is.
I've taken one drag.
I don't even pull it into my lungs.
All I really do is try to make pretty swirls with the smoke.
I like the flavour, on my lips.

She inhales hers quickly, out through her nose.
I never thought that was attractive.
It's the swirling, sifting way of letting it float.
I watch her breathe, exhale.
She watches me watching her,
waiting for an indication of my thoughts.
Her poses move slightly.
Perfectly practiced.
I'm almost convinced they're her movements.
Her natural ones.

Her nails remind me of spiders too.
She likes to brush the back of my hand.
There's a stark contrast there.
I have no nails to speak of,
and they're littered with white zinc-deficiency marks.
I think it's zinc, anyway.

She smells exotic.
Roses and something else.
The perfect trickle of it, when she moves.
It's viselike. Her perfection.
A jealous hunger,
to want that existence,
and to be near her at the same time.
To rip her apart and take her life.
The perception she gives you of her life.

She has cracks along her ribs,
where she breathes in people.
She has lies behind her eyes,
and she has teeth in her mouth she uses to chew.
She made the edges of her spine out of forgotten tractor parts.

She exhales.
I take another drag, attempt a smoke-ring.
My miserable failure sets her laughing.
A perfect, posed, rehearsed laugh.
I giggle anyway.
I want to.
I look at her sideways, for a real smile.
And it's my glance that sparks it.
Lightning quick, but I saw it.

I let the cigarette burn down the rest of the way.
We are good at sitting in silence.
She looks gorgeous.
I look tired, mused, and smell like incense.
I have glue on my hands I haven't peeled off yet.
Her skin is smooth, unbroken.
Her hands are slender, with a ring on one thumb.
They hold the cigarette with a dainty air.

I adore the contrast.
I say, to her spider-eyes:
Sometimes, I tip the coffee-shop baristas more than my coffee cost.
She wonders why I say it.

Because secretly;
I remark, snubbing out the cigarette;
I steal their smiles.
Probably. Grammar issues.
Remark upon them?

I wrote it in ten-fifteen minutes. So any editing would help.
AprilMcGuire Featured By Owner Aug 21, 2008  Professional Digital Artist
wonderful imagery :clap:
Kaeldra-1 Featured By Owner Aug 8, 2008
I think this is one of my favorite pieces you have ever written. Seriously intense and beautiful. I've had similar thoughts for poems but never could put them down on paper.

How do you always express the thoughts I fail to?

Brilliant, really :)
hell-on-a-stick Featured By Owner Jul 18, 2008
dont touch it. who cares how long it took? its the fast ones that are always the purest the least thought the least ruined by second-guessing.
and fuck grammar, btw. you write often times how you speak....which is more honest or at least more accurate than the average.
this is a great piece of work...i wish i had been there, if only to teach you how to blow a proper smoke ring.
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