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Rated: E · Prose · Emotional · #1315242
once again... no description for you.
she was as sweet as an undertaker
a cloudburst of a girl
as weary as an overdose
extravagantly crushed like fruit drinks
and a paper weight made of a little bit of death.
blue tears gave away to diluted pink.
she cryed silently like a statue mary.
was it following a sad course down her face
or was her face a support system for tears?
flashes of places
patches of earth where she stood
and proceeded to breathe.
dark alleys, a roar of hurt in her head
a rusty knife.
hack away at the source
and fail to fall inward
there will be no collapsing on yourself tonight.

she rants to the dirt streaked mirror about herself
as if she wasn't herself
and then gets close for a kiss...
ha.  that's a joke.
she breathes a burst,
short and heavy,
writes her destination in the two dimensional fog.
she plants her hands on the porcelain and thinks,
i can change. 
no, i can get change.
there is no need to spend myself
all in one place.
but she will because she's the sacrifice in the script.
she's the kink in the electric cord of the toaster.
she's the reason that the house burned down.
everyone else got out with bad burns and singed hair,
but she was unable to find the door in all the smoke.
i guess that's just the way it goes.
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