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Ardent
Here is something I wrote today, though made up some of the lines during a live roleplay sequence in a text based rpg setting yesterday. My character there was once a singer, of blues and jazz, and a showgirl, and knife thrower, but has quit being a bandit philosopher queen of the highway and is en route to a more reclusive life.. She is sitting at a bar when in walks a Madame, and they begin discussing the life of a performer. Though never a lady of the night herself, she came across the pleasure market frequently while traveling with a troupe which visited carnivals across the realms.
This is based a little on myself too, in regards to being a young woman during her sexual 20's, awakening in that respect, as well as having been in a Christian school during the school years.
I'd appreciate anyones contributed thoughts.
PW
ardent
like bones and shells
these rejected things
she remembers Blake,
"things alike in nature, often grow, to look alike"
though she is pale and slim
she is not disfigured on the sand
cast out by capricious waves
because the moon that pulls the tide
that drives and strives the sex of her like an arrow against the red paint of a board
does show some compassion
She does not fret
though her demons watch on
in the things closest to her
wood, a candle, a glass
None reflection
all, each, absorbing
A song she is
a drowsy hymn (rising out of dark cathedral)
with a pastoral quiver
in genuflection somewhere, at sometime
pearly beads on collarbone, innocence worn proud
Till she is no longer a flower
that is what the mean older girls said
"Open wide, and your just a weed"
But still she grows, pining for her sun
No less a woman
if a midnight scorned
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