In a town where gulls call over foam kissed stone,
Where sea salt grief clings to wood and bone,
Stood a hotel twenty three rooms small
A place where secrets crawled the walls.

It’s wallpaper was floral and faded red,
While whispers rose up from the unmade bed.
The year was nineteen forty seven
And she’d never know he was on his way with a vengeance

He wore a hat pulled low to hide
Eyes like storms, deep and wide.
Her name was still a song he wept
A curse he caressed a prayer half said

His love had been a ship at war
Cannons blazing towards the shore,
But her leaving? That was the gale
A wind so cruel it split his sail.

Hatred now was fuel to flame,
Drinking down whiskey
And forgetting his shame.

He climbed the stairs with measured tread
Knowing the ninth room housed her lover’s bed.
Opening the door was like splitting a scar
Inside lingered her perfume, the sounds of light jazz, the scent of cigars.

“Don’t” she cried out, but he did not hear.
The sound of revenge pounding in his ears
He pulled the steel from a coat lined dark
A love burned hand, a flint struck spark.

One shot - like thunder cracked in two,
She fell like a wave the sea once knew
The floorboards wept where she now slept
Where evil came to lay her to rest.

He left her there eyes full of dread
Hate on his lips and blood on the bed.
A man who loved like storms love the coasts
Broken down by revenge is now haunted by her ghost.

Life hums a sorrow, lost deep in the rain,
A whisper that burns in July’s heavy air.
They’ll tailor your heart for a runway of pain,
With cherry-lipped lies and a vacant-eyed stare.

So drink down your sadness, it’s aged and it’s chilled,
A cut-crystal poison, smooth velvet and ice.
They’ll auction your soul for the thrill left unfilled,
Then haunt you with echoes of love’s sacrifice.

They’ll swear that salvation comes cheap by the ounce,
That heartache is fleeting, just part of the fight.
But under the glitter, the dark truths still pounce;
A river of distress that drowns out the light.

They trace my sorrow in ink and flame,
A needle hums out my hidden shame.
Each line a confession, each color a sin,
Bleeding the hurt from the surface within.
The roses bloom where the bruises fade,
Thorns like the choices I shouldn’t have made.
The serpent coils on a porcelain thigh,
Whispering truths that I swore were a lie.
I trade my ache for the sting of art,
A palette of pain pressed over my heart.
Better the burn than the silence and tears,
I wear my memories where they can’t fade for years.
So darling, just etch me in violet and black;
Each needle a promise I won’t take it back.
For under this canvas of scarlet and grace,
Is a girl who survived by adorning her ache.

The circus came back to town last night,
Red and gold and little bit torn,
Like my heart on my sleeve, a bit weather-worn

I woke up in sequins and static again,
Mascara moons under my eyes, implying my sins.
Everyone claps when I make it look fun,
But no one sticks around when the lights come undone.

I’ve been the sad ******* the tightrope too long
Singing ballads to ghosts, always someone else’s song.
Balancing grief in a pink chiffon slip
Sipping my meds from a flask on my hip.

The elephants cry when they think we don’t see,
Caged in nostalgia just like me.
The trapeze swings, but I stay still
Frozen in mid air with no more will.

And God isn’t that the trick of the act?
To look like you’re flying with chains on your back?
To glitter in gold while you’re silently dying,
Turning breakdowns into something, something worth buying?

Carousel thoughts spin too fast,
A mirrored maze of my shattered past,
The crowd just wants their sweet matinee,
And I’m just the girl out on display.

The spotlight’s warm, but the glow’s all fake,
And I’m tired of bending just so I don’t break.
Call it a show. Call it a phase.
Call it depression in a pink beret.

Whatever it is, it’s mine to bear,
A circus of sorrow spun through the air.
And darling, I’d leave if I only knew how,
But the tent’s in my mind…
And the show’s starting now.

You laughed like a secret, sat close like a spell,
But clubs in your grin meant you never thought well.
Said we were soulmates, sisters in crime
But you cracked at the edges
when it wasn’t your time.

Queens don’t trust jokers, I learned this too late
Playing your part and I sealed my fate.
Spades behind backs and diamonds for shine,
You twisted the truth with one scripted line.

So here’s to the fall, to the crash, to the end.
To fake little hearts that pretend to be friends.
I’ll toast to the silence, to truth in the dark
And rebuild my throne from your fake house of cards.