Beautiful poetic angst

The bar tender asked her what she would like to drink, she answered. Sat alone, resting on an old stool, the fair haired female removed a note pad from a worn looking satchel. The counter was her impromptu table. She proceeded to write. Irrespective of the current location a feeling of compulsion to express inner thoughts resulted in her spilling poetic inclination's onto the small blank canvas.

Repressed angst filtered through a remarkably beautiful figure. It had etched itself on her flawless crimson face.

In search of solace - this sombre outlet was a welcoming haven for her lost soul. She was one of a selection of individuals sporadically situated in the weathered building, all sharing the understated ambiance of a distinctly meditative bar.

A drink arrived and she barely registered its existence. All she wished to do was to pen her dispirited thoughts.

A gentle surge of internal conflicts swirled around her fascinating mind as the words on the page flowed with rhythmic ease but lacked a polished coherence.

 After a few moments she stopped writing, delicatley sipped her drink - then began to pack her paper and pen back into the bag before swiftly leaving the dulcet bar.

She made her way into the cold, dark, wintery night. Never to be seen again.



Demola, TCC