there is something so fragile about it-
I love the b u r n of the lies, (cheap wine
and expensive cigarettes the reek of vanilla perfume)
the whoreish whisper of
"ohmygod you'll never guess"
(and the overly glossed lips squeal
in pink&beaded self importance,
as if fake tans weren't trashy enough,
they added sequins to their eyelashes,
and i walk in scuffed converse and wear my
jcpenney tank top to low)
the delicate lies & promises you say & half-way keep
the secrets you hold in your mouth (spit shined and
vomit colored) those little words, filthybeautiful, that you just
are d y i n g to spill onto the concrete of your victory and let
splinter onto the dashed yellow/green lines of your morality.

(especially when I'm betraying myself)