Purple shadows beneath my eyes

circling those shavings of ice suspended

in milky orbs holding the obsidian of

my pupils.

Promises like glass on the tiled floor,

tiptoe closer to you, the sharp pain of being

left behind cutting into the soles of my feet,

ignored as I reach for you.

Could I be a doll to place on your

shelf, proving that I loved you

and that I'm still haunting you?

Lies crawling toward me

fended off with a cheap smile

that I purchased so I could hide.

Now my saccharine words and

lilting voice are not enough

and they're clawing at my ankles.

Reaching for you

again.

And they say the words

that bring me to mind.

Hair like tiger lilies,

wild alongside this fence picket

perfect street.

An artist, dreaming of those things

that I won't posses, and a fickle heart

to follow at all times.

I don't care if you've gone and left

me behind, as long you're still thinking

of me as you run.