she liked to steal old matches
her soul drenched in Santal
thoughts deeper than the canyons,
slurred in her sozzled calls

with rose gold colored eyes,
she grabs your rusty match tin
but if you hand your heart to her
you won't see that again

she hides in her rose bathtub
silk bathrobe, as expected
builds castles made of bubbles
and hearts that she's neglected