Aren't your eyes heavy with mascara

Heavy enough to cry?

You're too young, just born

For that middle aged death-coming sigh


With that round heart made of metal

Resting on your self-insulted flat chest

You pretend to know what love is

Drinking, dancing, smoking, sex


Your face angled; pained, hair straightened sharp

Those obsidian hue laden tired eyes , plastic lips

Represent the innocence and child in her

As she pours the vodka and hesitantly sips