she read and read and read and read
until her eyelids didn’t let her anymore,
until she found comfort in the dark behind the baby-blue of her eyes.

she danced and danced and danced and danced
until her hips hurt from all the sways,
until drunken eyes left her body,
until they showed her what she wanted.

she kissed and kissed and kissed and kissed
until his warm lips turned plump,
until she admitted to herself that she wished it was him instead,
until she realized she didn’t want his lips that were fatal and she was dying.

she let and let and let and let hands do anything on her body
until she wished for at least one of the touches to be warm
until she wished for it to ignite the bloom in her lungs and burn what he left in it.

she didn’t sleep.