girl warfare
. . .

Lips that smile
syrup sweet,
she's a dream
walking on eggshells
around the mess she makes.

Poison words
like pretty things,
an anger never spoken,
only left to fester
in little pink i's,
dotted with hearts.

This life isn't real.
This world isn't real.
This friend isn't real,
and neither is she.

And we're all just
sitting around,
waiting to betray each other.