from the rose under her nose
a gentle fog of smoke escaped her scarlet lips
a slow and hateful eye roll was flashed on her face
as the colors on her hair never seemed to fade

perfectly poised, she paints poignant statures
alive yet devoid, her daggers dazzle through her wrists
her heart is heavy but she cannot weep
her eyes are closed but she’d never sleep

the moon looks opaque tonight, kind of like city girl skin
she’s in the streetlight, all dressed to ****
lord should have seen how the traffic lights all stuttered from red to green
oh please
the devil himself wouldn't be so cruel to this soul