Accent Lines

I peeled the breath
of fifty nine years
from the sheer layer
of life left stagnant 
above my upper lip.

It felt a bit raw
as I tossed your 
frayed tooth brush
in the trash -

hesitated only once
          
before blending cream and
Italian fragrance 
on my neck and breasts.

I'd be damned if
I let lines accent
anything but brilliance.






© Pamela A. Lamppa
April 2019
All rights reserved