Remnant Wrinkled
Do you know people that live in their past glory?
A friend at work, finally decided to try her hand at poetry. This is her first poem ever. She would love some feedback.
What Used to Be
In the middle of an empty crowded room
rocking back and forth is a remnant
of prom queens past:
white tight supple skin replaced
with orange distressed wrinkles,
sought after beach-blond-
sun-kissed-by-God-hair exchanged
for dried-out-over-bleached-broken-off-ends—ravaged
by a past of never good enough.
A body the envy of all,
now envied by none.
She sways to an off-beat rhythm,
the dance in the back of her head,
laughing and crying unsure
of what’s to become.
Oh, and so I give the author her credit: Her name is Kimberly Guillebeaux
A faded rose
of days
gone by
She was adored...
Your friend has shown us quite vividly...the image of a woman who gave up everything for her beauty without knowing what would come to end it.....nothing left now..she knows nothing else....
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