Hazel was more the color of her eyes
when she sighed
white lines erase the pain
Who’s to blame
coiled in parental shame
you can run(!) but you can’t hide
Another fix would do the trick
revels in your weakness
Guilt spills from your pores
and onto the floor
a chair; the ghost of yourself sits there
Good thing you possessed more
than you were caught with
conscience shelled on a distant shore.
dVerse – Lillian has asked the pub to write something centered around 1920s vintage mugshots. I’m a little late for the party. While I thought this was a really neat prompt, I couldn’t find a photo that stood out, and I had no idea what I’d write. I finally found a mugshot that spoke to me, and this is my attempt.