(no subject)
fortune's fool, Rose/Ten, g
"Tell me my fortune,"
she says and gives him her hand, 155 words
"Tell me my fortune,"
she says and gives him her hand.
He doesn't know what to do with it
the lines and breaks
the gently trembling fingertips,
he stares at it a moment without even moving.
Finally he takes it.
"Well let's see here,"
he says solemnly,
the look on her face
is equally somber,
three days prior a devil told her she would die.
She is brave, after all, but not fearless,
and the anticipation that sits in her eyes makes him
pause.
While he's thinking, she smiles.
"Give me your hand," she says
"and I'll tell you your future."
She takes his hand,
lines up all their lines and breaks,
vein to vein and pulse to pulse,
he looks at her hand against his
her chipped fingernail polish
against his oil stained fingers
and past the freckles and the lines and the creases,
he looks into her hands,
and sees his own future.
eta: Even though I was inspired by the picture, the finished poem doesn't have much to do with it. I wanted to post it still since it was my inspiration, however weird that may be. Also, I completed this as a personal challenge kinda thing but man, I really had a hard time with it. The rest of you guys wrote so beautifully I thought it may be easy. I was wrong. lol.
"Tell me my fortune,"
she says and gives him her hand, 155 words
"Tell me my fortune,"
she says and gives him her hand.
He doesn't know what to do with it
the lines and breaks
the gently trembling fingertips,
he stares at it a moment without even moving.
Finally he takes it.
"Well let's see here,"
he says solemnly,
the look on her face
is equally somber,
three days prior a devil told her she would die.
She is brave, after all, but not fearless,
and the anticipation that sits in her eyes makes him
pause.
While he's thinking, she smiles.
"Give me your hand," she says
"and I'll tell you your future."
She takes his hand,
lines up all their lines and breaks,
vein to vein and pulse to pulse,
he looks at her hand against his
her chipped fingernail polish
against his oil stained fingers
and past the freckles and the lines and the creases,
he looks into her hands,
and sees his own future.
eta: Even though I was inspired by the picture, the finished poem doesn't have much to do with it. I wanted to post it still since it was my inspiration, however weird that may be. Also, I completed this as a personal challenge kinda thing but man, I really had a hard time with it. The rest of you guys wrote so beautifully I thought it may be easy. I was wrong. lol.