Sep 20
poem 0 comments challenge: Almost

Almost

The scene in front of her
was almost perfect.
Almost.
Her lips were pursed,
pink and flourishing,
saying things,
sweet,
that tasted like candy
and powdered sugar
on her tongue.
It was almost perfect,
(Click!)
the sound.
It was a noise
that signified perfection,
but that sound,
(Click!)
never came
when mascara
ran down her beautiful,
almost smiling,
almost perfect,
face.
(Click!)
Her heel turned.
She faced her,
the tears running,
her lips quivering,
pursed and pink and
flourishing.
The wind was silent,
almost deadly
as the distance
gaped. Gaps
never close
when blushing,
beautiful people,
who have been told
their whole lives
that they are,
seriously,
perfect,
turn pale,
eyes puffy,
and never see
the beauty in
imperfection.
(Thwomp! Thwomp!)
Her heart beats
at such a sight.
Almost perfect.
Almost.
And beautiful.