For a GirlMature

You smell like lipstick and misery, your guilt-coloured hair

Hangs close to my face as you whisper gold-dipped degradations

And some beautiful rejection through the catacombs of my mind and

Bury me inside myself; cold chambers, tombstones marked with

Black eyeliner.


I dissect my life with a razorblade; pull the pieces back together and

Scatter them to the wind; a peaceful protest, vendetta against you,

I hurt no-one but myself.


I live for careless touches, your disgust can't seep through your skin,

Your hair, your watercolour eyes, and the way they sweep over me in

Silent laughter, silent loathing, silent something in the way; there's

Something in the way, the tension beckons for the knife,

Break the pause just like you broke me, bury me in blond locks and

Artificial smiles.

The End

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