She’s made of,
stardust,
and dances,
on the surface,
of the,
moon.
She breathes,
the scent,
of roses,
with a hint,
of cigarettes,
and black cherry,
incense.
She intoxicates,
the room,
with her,
presence,
as she twirls,
and spins,
the world,
does too.

Her eyes,
follow you,
across the crowd.
And you,
your curiosity,
can’t help it.
She blushes,
turns away,
didn’t see,
the glint,
in your own.
Is this,
the start,
of a cliché,
garbage,
romance?
Big brown eyes,
can only see,
what the daytime,
can’t.
Girl’s a daydreamer,
in the search,
of a night owl,
dance.

I keep her,
in a jar,
tight lipped,
and sealed,
with holes,
big enough,
for air.
She screams,
muffled,
by her own,
containment.
If she,
cries,
she might,
drown,
in her own,
confinement.
No one,
is aware,
of my little,
experiment.
It hurts,
me,
more than,
her,
to witness,
entrapment.
My heart,
shatters,
at the,
predicament.
But I can’t,
speak,
I lost,
the words,
and the pen,
to write them.

I take,
scissors,
to my,
tongue.
Only then,
I won’t,
have to,
listen,
to myself,
drone.
I’ll snap,
my fingers,
at the knuckles,
puncture,
eardrums,
still,
I won’t,
shut up.

I’m,
choking,
there’s,
something,
stuck,
in my,
throat.
Most,
likely,
my own,
heart,
hollowed,
is attempting,
an,
escape.
Like a,
sponge,
it soaks,
up all,
damage,
begins to,
crumble.
I breathe,
through,
holes left,
behind,
a past,
rescue,
mission.
A,
lost,
cause.
I just,
want,
to,
breathe,
again.

There’s this,
demon,
inside of,
me.
It plays,
a facade,
and looks,
just like,
me.
Whispers,
you are,
worthless,
not,
wanted,
so,
pathetic,
me.
I beg,
please,
stop,
just for a,
minute,
for,
me.
I laugh,
the demon,
frowns,
it’s obviously,
been a,
reflection,
just,
Me.

Time moves,
so slow.
Like a snail,
on the clock,
nailed to the,
wall.
The slime,
it seeps,
into the gears,
of it all.
Almost,
as if,
we go backwards,
as he inches,
along.