Someone once cried into the dying night.
For candles and wet witches to light
or wait for the wildfires to catch
and save their life
or kill them first.
They would burn in a white fire,
like that of a broken girl’s eyes
waiting for her heart
to be lit up like a cigarette.
Wishes and dreams betrayed them,
the fire took over
but somewhere out in the lost forest
someone else cried out,
over her stolen innocence
and forgotten life,
so, the dying night
became day instead.
Black leather jacket, red bleeding lips.
They take her down to the translucent glass town;
enchant her hollow mind with hollow words
that make her follow their every order.
Chipped nail polish, vodka spiked water.
She grew up on hope of princesses and kings; saving the damsel from her heart-breaking distress
of anger filled nights, forced on bedsprings.
Cracked blue diamonds, lying candy hearts.
They make her promises of a better life;
instead of the cycle of sadness she’s in
like a broken merry go round.
Glitter filled guns, tainted sunshine.
She’s given up on the dreams she had as a child;
she takes what she needs to get by, to feel alive
and keep the hole in her heart hidden.
Black diamonds, blue roses,
perfume that smells like amber,
fades around midnight,
when bright stars shine through the dull clouds.
Around the mass of dust,
surrounding old lungs,
there are hearts hiding,
that beats like broken syntax.
With messy minds, neat vodkas,
dreams of mountains that smile.
Spending nights writing soliloquies
about cheap medicine.
Rain falls down,
black circles around eyes.
Girls are prettiest when they cry,
that’s why the world makes them so sad.
In a haze, drinking by a fire,
covered to death in sunshine.
Black diamonds on girl necks,
blue roses smell like amber.