Alice’s eyes are glowing like Christmas lights in July,
and she’s sprawled across some man’s bed,
smiling into the darkness and unfamiliar sheets
and whispering that she’s beautiful.
It’s always easier to lie when you’re high, and she’s
giggling (madly) as an arm snakes around her waist
and pulls her closer to the chest of yet another Mr. Someone that she doesn’t know.
Her panties draped over a chair not three feet away,
but they look like someone else’s.
Black and lacey and too grown up for little Alice,
who still has to leave a light on at night or lay awake
afraid of the creatures in the dark.
“You never know,”-she pretends to joke-“what’s out there in the dark”
but tonight the only light is radiating from her eyes and her white smile in the inky black.
Cheshire grin spread across her face, she’s absorbing the warmth
from yet another Mr. Someone that just wanted a cheap fuck,
and the coke in her nose is the only reason she’s not crying.