Eyes wide open when I drop the glare
But my mouth is still sealed
Stitched butterflies tattoo my lips
Not even an ocean of brandy can cure
Black smudged and jagged
Running fast from the lines which were
For a moment perfectly hiding the dirt
And then plunged, a picture in hands
Being worn, being torn, because underneath
There’s only silence and filth.
Blurry faces swim in-between tears
Caught in lashes, but they all ignore
a human fountain bleeding black and evil.
The hatred spirals and vision narrows
Until all I see are perfect ankles
Gracefully touring the streets
avoiding all the places I have wetted.
Bright sighs and another attempt
to paint myself in black and white
something I can believe in for a moment,
before the beautiful skin begins to peel away
from my flesh, grey and naked
something must have bound my hands
because I feel butterflies tickle there
and a distant memory in my heart
The grey merges and I see some pain
in black and white taking dainty steps
my work is done, and undone.
© PickledSparklyMoosePrincess – author