Marilyn painted her nails today
Little Christmas hats and presents danced across her delicate hands
I saw her nails when she handed me a pencil in math class.
Her fingers arched gracefully as she tilted the yellow pencil towards my open palm,
drumming her other hand on the desk.
Her lightly glossed red lips parted ever so slightly as she huffed a breath out,
Still holding out the pencil.
My eyes traveled down to her hand and I grabbed the very end of the eraser, carefully plucking the pencil from her hand.
YOU ARE READING
Marilyn
PoetryMarilyn is perfect. Marilyn is beautiful. Marilyn is flawless. Marilyn doesn't know me. But I'd like to think I know her. [This is a work in progress!!!many more parts will come out!!!]
