Girl, Melted
by Hillary Lyon

pale she sat
long-necked gazelle
collar of Irish lace
and granny's pearls
orbiting her throat

look over here
the painter whispered
to my left the city
outside the window
the only window in the wall

in her upswept hair
the tropical flower
melted her eye make-up
melted into soft
rivulets of despair

as she gazed
and wondered
as her mind wandered
through the darkening
wet streets out there

Illya's Honey Literary Journal

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