Shooting Stars and Streamers

I just wrote this because - they were just so bare, you know. They were open, wide open and staring at me. Like they weren't marring her skin, like they weren't killing her from inside-out.

I went 
to school
today
And at
the end
of the
day, I
went for
the new
writing
club.

I sat
next to
a friend
and the
teacher
read out
an essay.

My eyes
wandered
off, and
drifted
towards
a girl.

She had
streamers
across
her arm,
like a
birthday
upon
her wrist.

A pale
colour
less
Scatter
of glee
- oh, glee - 
sprawled
like a
moment
of hap..
..pyness.

Dozens
or so.

Dozens
upon
dozens
of stars
shooting
kissing
her skin.

Bare, open,
fading,
washed-out
streamers
lying
in a 
tattered 
heap on
forearms.

Nobody
said a
word, as
I felt
the need
to sweep
the streamers
off of 
her arm
on to
the floor.

The teacher
kept on
reading.

Like
Like stars
shooting
across
her arm,
so hot
that I
could not
stop them.

I could 
not stop
her.

And the
streamers
laughed.

The End

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