The days and nights, they're golden
till she realises she's got nothing going for her
but the curve of her cheekbones and the
ring on her painted toe.
And in the emptiness of classrooms she
brushes the dreamdust from her eyes
and feels the vacuum in the pit of her
stomach, calling for another heart to swallow.
She may very well starve,
and good riddance too,
Golden girl, her tongue is tarred
and her lips too chapped for song.