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Smoke threads the air,
Tendrils curling
Captivating the screen.
She breathes in,
Slowly,
Measured,
Then out
Through soft lips
Glossed,
Scarlet,
Smouldering,
Although the scene is played in black and white
And the colour is just imagined.
She takes the cigarette between her fingers,
It’s not left to dwindle,
Ash building,
She
Takes control,
Boldly exhaling,
Confident,
Unashamed
Gazing into the lens
Becoming, in this wordless moment,
Someone more.
More
Than the mirrored story,
Spoken a thousand times
From word to text
Paling on this rise,
On this forever moment,
She
Is ageless,
Immortal,
An illusion of herself.
I rise
And
I touch the screen

It is cold.

Copyright ©RMC May 2020

 

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