Thursday 21 April 2016

Foxy Lady.

me neither

I’m going to stare, ‘cos I can’t work it out.

Something is not right.

Not right, but fascinating all the same.

It could be the shape of her mouth; it could be the shade of her lipstick or then again her teeth.

She reminds me of a fox caught unexpectedly in car headlights late at night. There is the same flash as she smiles as for the fox, before it turns away into the wood.

She has added darkness to her cheeks where really there is none, she too is not meant for the day.


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