New Year's Eve, 1975
by Kitty Boots
in a black halter dress
I swirled around my candle-lit bedroom
shoulder-length caramel hair, golden highlights
lemon-scented and softly curled to my shoulders
contacts, false eyelashes,
strappy black open-toed sandals
perfect for dancing
touched at the pulse points with my mother's Faberge Woodhue perfume, I waited for my desperado date
he never showed up, never called, never apologized
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Author's Note
A hurt that never goes away, being stood up on New Year's Eve!
Other stories by Kitty Boots
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The small-balled hemorrhoid didn't deserve you.
Wow! excellent capture.
I'd have been there in a heartbeat!*
He is the one missing out. Nice lines.
Thank you, Matt, Gary, Tim and Ericka. I'd always let that memory haunt my New Year's Eves, but no more!
Power of poetry! ;)
Love hurts.
*****
It hurts even reading. Your gorgeous anticipation, the amazing wound of being forgotten, ignored, failed. *
*, KB. You turned hurt and disappointment into excellent poetry.
*, KB. You turned hurt and disappointment into excellent poetry.
Thank you James and Beate. Thank you, David. Hurt and disappointment are huge inspirations for writing!
This reminds me of a book on shelf, glit letters never faded.