Pathetic parasite of a woman perpetuates love indefinitely, a plague upon hopelessly romantic people. A performance. Smiling, always. Hates good news and sleeps around, sleeps surrounded in black light. Wearing sunglasses. Her day is nighttime. She breathes aesthetic, instagram posts to survive. But thrives, only. The numb gummed princess cries every day and yes. She said it, even a hundred times but language proves flexible. Same words mean different things and we obviously don’t speak the same language. I meant mine. I didn’t know she’d sell hers for snow. Fame. Attention from strangers.