Brazen collarbones
Alabaster dream
Jutting out like little wings
Pouty grin
Ready to fire quicker
Than any takers
Girl, you sit there,
And I can tell
You want to watch
Men burn

Plastered on the ceiling
Mind is always reeling
I don't like this feeling
Watching you stealing
Oh, you're so appealing
What are you revealing?

Introverted.
The doctor says I'm broken.
Possible to not have a ******?
Guess it never developed.
Like my sense of humour.
Ha ha.
I guess I won't share my horror stories.
No babies in my stomach.
No child with matching hazel eyes.
Making things even more complicated.
Forced to be celibate by my body.
Doctor appointments needed.
Glad I never tried.
It would have hurt that much more.
Dysfunctional is an understatement.
I can't provide anything,
But my mind.
And even I don't want that.

Sometimes,
I feel the urge
To fall in love again.
Then, I think,
better not.

The song
'Little Bag of Hair'
By the Mystery Jets
It's the only song,
On a playlist
That reads,
Forbidden.

None of this seems quite
                                    right.
I heard it starts around this age
I might just have lost it.

I think it's pretty - I hope it stains.
It's all in my head now - It won't go away.
My burning dress - It's running down my leg.
A secret mess - Sugar kiss.
I'll clean myself good.
But it's stained forever - I think it's pretty.