Her face is hot, like she's holding it near the oven door, and she can feel a thin layer of perspiration at her hairline. So she starts to smooth her dress, thinking about how funny the polyester-cotton feels once it's been washed a few times-- those little pills begin fuzzing up on the fabric. And he gives her one of those love scene smiles from the old black-and-whites, where the lighting makes everything soft and hazy and warm. And it feels like it's fifty feet tall, magnified a thousand times by the movie projector, playing to the saccharine of "Heaven... I'm in Heaven. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak. And I seem to find the happiness I seek. When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek."
Reason for writing:
Just popped into my head. Not sure if I like it. Any ideas?
Birth sign: Virgo
You need to log in to edit this poem if it is yours.
View more poems by Bronwen.