The gravel clings yet
To abased and bleeding flesh
Your ripped and broken coquette
And down legs the blood runs.

Her brilliant eyes are blue
Ad the red brings out her pallor
Her skirt shows glimpses, too
Of the way her stockings run.

Blonde steamers trail behind
Her breath was harsh and low
It drove you from your mind
As she stumbled and she ran.

She trembles in your arms
And you say it does her ill
To display her alarm
While her eyeliner runs.

Later your turn comes
To be pursued by red and blue
And you face your conundrums
As down the streets you run.

(A/N: For the school's lit magazine challenge, "run".)