My photo
I want nothing more than to be that sexy, moody, artistic waif, lounging in a coffeeshop writing poetry, existing off of black coffee and cigarettes.


Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Toxic skin and sultry eyes
A master liar's last disguise

Her smile oozed love and poison both
Her lips left glitter trailed up your throat

Bouncing curls, angelic fake
Breath down your spine until you wake

A finger trails, dangerously
I wonder what will become of me.