When I just a baby girl.
I was covered in tiny twinkling lights,
They were everywhere on me so lovely.
You could hardly see
the spaces between them.
That was before I found out how to lie.
That truth had many shades
from purest white
to darkest black with so many greys.
Sometimes a small light would fade
Mom there won’t be alcohol there..
Other times a row of them went dark
Mom I did not sleep with him.
Then some lies made them all glow dimmer.
It’s alright Dad I don’t do drugs.
Now older I walk alone in the city streets.
On a rainy dark night
the store windows look like a hall of mirrors.
I can see my reflection ghostlike
all my pretty lights are faded.
I look tired and jaded.
but if you look very closely
between the falling raindrops,
like tears streaming down the windows.
You may see just a few of my lights
a glimmer of them hardly visible.
So stubborn they wont be the last ones
to go out.
they are around my heart