& they called her miss monroe in her dusky black&white, in her dresses for no occasion and her heels that clickclack on shades of gray pavement beneath her smeared with rain a sunsetshaped umbrella over her head to hide her smokey eyes with flirty fans for lashes. She speaks with a voice like whisps and shreds of something (almost) warm. Black is her only forever-lover but she defies even him with firecracker-red lips. You know, she kisses all the boys, draws blood, because miss monroe always leaves her mark.
Behind a cloud of knitted smoke, a silver cigarette holder propped between two ragged-red fingernails, she says "It's more Audrey." When they blink at her with their oh-so-normal naked eyes, she presses her slick lips together over her cigarette, clenching her teeth as she inhales the 'Hepburn'. She doesn't waste words, and mysterious matches her lipstick today.