Poor girl
You are as straight as an angle
With a circumference that is wide and loose
Obtuse.

I return to a bed not slept in
As I have five nights or more
The streets
I wander
After dark
Gliding through the lights of street lamps
Ever so near and far
The ghost of slumber taunt me
out to the dangerous, evening world
But safer I am here, in the darkness
than locked up tight
with nothing more to fear
than my own reflection and mind

I wonder if the lavender
yearn for her scent
whenever she's not present.

I wonder if the sunflowers
crave her little light
like the sun every night.

I wonder if the roses
envy her beauty
that captivated me.

I never liked the
smell of tea tree until I
smelt it in her hair

8:32 PM
19/10/20

& then
Finally knowing itself
Candour rode naked
Unwrapped in a splendour
Born in shade
Freed finally from the clamour
Of clinging on
This raw dark undappled
A ripe fruit
Plucked from empty branches
After the fall

I use to have a paper doll
once upon a time.
She had bubble gum matted hair
and veins filled with turpentine.

Her dress was made of Percocets
that went past her knees.
She spent her time smoking cigarettes
to medicate her anxiety.

My paper doll began to fade
as the hours drifted by.
Her rainbow became dull and gray
and I began to wonder why.

It could have been the cigarettes
or the Percocets she took.
It could have been the anxiety
from the harsh judgmental looks.

My paper doll is gone
and I miss her every day.
I wish she was still here with me
and she didn't fade away.