oh my belle, my beautiful belle
you mourn in front of the mirror
each night you feel queerer
so you bury yourself, clutching the trigger

oh my belle, my pretty little belle
beauty you deny yourself
you’re afraid for the world to attest
so you shut your eyes to the rest

oh my belle, my lovely dove belle
you died when you put that mask
why did you do that to yourself
do you hate your skin that much?

oh my belle, my poor sad belle
you were once my sunshine
lighting up my world with your smile
you don’t even have to try

oh my belle, my beautiful dead belle
i’ll never forget the way the light left your eyes
and my only consolation is i’ll never hear your cries
oh my precious belle, flickers and fades and dies

belle, your skin wanders
for that's why the red yarn runs
not by your own hands
but by the gravel of its bare feet

belle, your head floats
pulled astray by arachnids
you know not why the web lines
your fingers— only that it does

belle, your neck aches
with the burden of a black cat
the wounds belong to him, not you
not you not you not you

belle, your eyes linger
seven lukewarm minutes
and a misaligned tussock boot
feed your grave

belle, your feet sway
catching baby's breath
from a newborn curtain
close

belle—