He sees the world as her backdrop, And loves her wholly. She knows that and wants to love him back, but All she can feel is lonely.
As he sleeps she cries in Tight, silent heaves in rhythm With his chest as he breathes. His face is lit from neon light, Slipping through a slit on the strung-up sheet-- An eye to the street, And to everything that's beyond this life that she leads. But she needs him and Please, she begs, Have him Hate me, at least. I'm weak-- I'll linger until he throws me away, Because at least then I can say That it wasn't my choice, but Everything must fade.
She goes on a walk every night now, Riddled with complexes and smoking, Eyes roving with 2AM mascara, Wearing a spring dress in dead winter. Head down in a crowd, aware Of herself existing only when men stare. They crave for her, she craves for him, Her sadness, a narcotic magnetism.
She drowned off the coast Of the island in her kitchen. She weighed herself down with Her faults like mountains and Yellowed ambition.