dead roses
dead roses
by misti rainwater-lites
The roses are dead in Tyler, Texas. I dance to the “Saturday Night Fever” soundtrack in Hobby Lobby and call Roxi Xmas on my invisible rotary phone that is shaped like a rooster. She’s not answering. She’s out with Billy Angel again. I hate it when she’s such a slut. The roses are dead in Tyler, Texas and cars honk behind me. I was trying to name a goddamn cloud.
The writing is good in Tyler. I felt a sense of control over the sentence lengths and it made this flow like a song to me. Nice one.
Yeah, I totally dig this one. Thanks for sharing.
this is fucking awesome! the shortest is often indeed the sweetest.