A little messy today, but I found some time in my day to at least get something down. Today's prompt was to write with alliteration. I tried to include some in every line without overdoing it.
Smile, he tells you as you’re struggling
To keep your head up, hair in your face,
Eyes on sparkling cement at your feet.
This stranger simply wants to see you
Bloom like a field bluebonnets,
Your lips lulled open by his presence
As though his words were spring,
His tongue the month of March,
His wafting breath the wind.
But your books tell you your body
Is not a coppice in spring, created
to always be beautiful. But if it was,
too, you’re allowed russet sometimes
like that same grove in August, giving up
and letting the drought dictate
the color of your Monday mood,
a frown forever draped in brown.
Your face tumbleweeds in trepidation
As you bite your tongue, taste
the bitter summer dust of blood.
The world will come, take selfies
of the waves of wildflowers,
display the loveliness of this land
as if that’s all there is to see. Who wants
to remember the desperate face of drought,
the windswept, weathered landscape of your body.
Today, you’ll save your smiles for the mirror.