By 19 she had forgotten how to smile
Wiping the running mascara from her eyelids
And the blood from the corner of her mouth.
Gone girl, growing up unchecked in the bathroom of a seedy bar
Her smudged kisses on the cracked mirror an offering
to the place she calls her temple.
She is the goddess of Ecstasy and having too much to drink,
Stumbling with strangers through the city, falling into taxis,
And waking up somewhere new every morning.
It was she invented the walk of shame,
And mastered the art of forgetting who she was.
The nightlife angel, sticky with champagne,
Gorgeous and passed out on the cement,
Her innocence left behind in a trail of glitter,
Broken bottles, and whatever it was she took last night.