By: Linda M. Crate

dark lipstick
tainted too darkly
a consuming melody of tragedy
thin wisps of blonde locks
vacant sapphire eyes
smudged with disapproval
an elderly woman
scratches off a lottery ticket
as if it’s the only prayer she has
i wonder if she was like me
foolhearty enough
to give all her flowers of innocence to
a man that couldn’t or wouldn’t
love her the way she loved him;
if she was cheated on,
and lied to by a coward that wouldn’t
even admit to what he did
like i was –
she won’t meet my eyes
only scratches off the tickets in one
last ditch effort to leave
her eternal hell
behind her,
and i can tell by her frown
it didn’t work;
hope one day i can find the peace she couldn’t
that i’m not using lottery tickets as prayers.