Smokey Blue

Rings of blue smoke curled about her head from a dangling cigarette between dark ruby lips.

Blunt fingernails tapping faint staccato against a half-empty whiskey glass.

Kohl-smudged eyes gazed out from beneath shaggy bangs,

black as night, shrewd, waiting.

The dive was dingy, dark, and derelict.

Jammed with grifters, thieves, and cutthroats on the hunt.

Hustlers swindling illicit card games.

The flirting wiles of the scantily clad.

The stinging tang of copper as a switchblade ruptures skin.

She felt the cold press of her pistol,

and wondered why this was when she felt most alive.


Author: Poets and Prose

I've suffered from depression, anxiety, and low self-esteem for many years. When my son was diagnosed with Autism, my depression took a turn for the worse. At the age of 39, I've opened up a new lease on life by learning to love myself and finding positive ways to cope with life's difficulties through blogging, fitness, photography, writing, and the arts. This is just one personal journey of healing and finding oneself.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s