there was something about the way her lips formed words
how they hugged and gripped each letter
there was something soft yet rough about the way she walked
each step looked like the ground reached up and kissed her feet
oh, and that smile.
if death were 32 pearlies, i'd die a thousand times

she seemed to struggle with they way she looked at herself
her eyes didn't see what others saw
her eyes, her angelic crystal blues, yelled to me and could not deceive me
while that deadly smile laid upon her face
i saw the hurt, the anguish, the plea for help every time she blinked
or didn't

she once told me a story only i reckon it wasn't a story
about a young woman who made one line across her wrist every night
just one line
the young woman thought more than one slice would only pull her death closer
see, although being six feet deep was ventured by the young woman
she prayed and begged to God for her life to shine they way her smile did.
she prayed that she wouldn't have to make her mother cry
and that her tears would no longer stain her pillow case every night

there was something about the way her lips formed words
how they strangled and struggled to push out the truth
she never said what she thought of herself
she never said why her smile never matched her eyes
she never said why dying alone on a bathroom floor
with an empty bottle of  '32 pearlies'
was as beautiful as she was.