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The Beauty

May 18, 2010 1 comment

by Neila Mezynski

Eyed. Always. She thought. In league with Max Factor, Blanche and dim lights. Her #2 base might cake, bake, ride rough shod, let the cat in, out, no mirror, no conversation without lipstick. Maybelline, center stage. One rainy day and streaked face, such a shame. He needed her: come this minute, accident. Not ready. For him, the world. Here it is, the stone wall. She ran hard and fast straight into. Take the beating and stay with Max. Keep it on the surface, easier like that. She can see better in the dark, anyhow.


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Neila Mezynski has fiction and poetry in Snow Monkey, Word Riot, elimae, Mud Luscious, The Scrambler, Dogzplot, and >kill author, among many other journals and magazines.

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