Waterlogged pages litter the floor,
Her teeth,
Coffee stained.
All from the many jittery and sleepless nights,
Crying onto the ink filled pages,
Trying to write the perfect poem for you.

Her car smells of mind altering substance,
A still burning cigarette in the ash tray,
In hopes that her mind may wander onto something other than you.

She spends hours perfecting her makeup,
Not a single overprocessed hair out of place.
Wearing her tightest and darkest clothes,
She hopes she might get a second glance from you today.

But she won't see you today or tomorrow,
So she'll post a picture and hope you're watching.
Trying so hard to be something that'll catch your eye,
Your dark angel in the night.