color me the hue of your cigarette ash;
slam broken beer bottles in to my palm
and wipe the blood on an old t-shirt.
paint me pretty with whore red lipstick
(stolen from my mother)
and stuff me in to china doll shells.
you say “this change will be good for you”
i say “this is too fun to stop”
my father says “oh good god, what have you done?”
but darling, let’s not listen to anyone else,
and continue tattooing memories on our skin.”