Never let her see your scars
They draw a wretched map
Bright pink lines of roads you've traveled
Etched on you until exsanguination
Leading to nowhere in particular
Until you met her

Always cake the make-up on
To fill in deeply carved crags
You don't want him to say goodnight
To tomorrow's yesterday
As your tears smear mascara
While he walks the shortest way out

Always meet them under the willow tree
The lighting hits you just right
And you want to be just right
Even as you stand
On the shallow graves, you've dug
For all your ghostly skeletons