Scattered black petals as she undresses beneath a crescent moon. Necklace removed then placed by the sink; an evening of shame slowly dissolves as she bathes herself in lukewarm water. If it takes a golden ring to capture her love, then that’s what it takes. If there’s nothing left to give other than saying those fateful words, then those words will surely have to be spoken. Light a candle, and drink from the bottle. The answers won’t be inside, yet they’ll be somewhere close by. Not ready for commitment, and afraid of mirrors. Ashamed of what it feels like to be so alone, yet stronger for staying true to the feelings that bubble inside. It’s in her painted fingernails and the way she clings to love like a child to its mother. Too many demons and too many ghosts. They haunt because she can’t find her way home to a place where she belongs. Red lipstick and rings around the eyes. Trees outside the window that call her name in the wind. Get in the car, and drive until all traces of what hurts the most are left miles behind. There’s no need to be afraid, just shed some skin and believe in something more. Those subtle feelings of resentment, flowering so majestically beneath a hating sun. He doesn’t love you the same, and she needs someone more for real. The games that are played, and the bizarre reasoning for throwing it all away as if it were nothing worth saving. Organic madness. Disturbed pieces of what was once yesterday, and the never ending search for what it means to be free of guilt. Tied not to sin but to the thirst of wanting more. If you don’t feel it, then turn back and become one with whatever. She’s a sculpture, a myth that slipped between hesitant fingers. She’s a whore in sheep’s clothing, forever grazing in golden fields and waiting for the day when tomorrow never comes. It’s in the way she curls into a ball as the tears well in those big, pretty eyes. It’s in the way she sobs in the darkness as the world turns without her. So much pain in one so beautiful and young, yet the world isn’t fair, and there’s no way of putting it right unless you’re willing to carry on in the face of so much heartache. In his shadow, we crumble so easily. We are alive. We are infinite. Breathe in, and touch your lover’s face. Breathe out, and sing me a song. Nothing else matters, it’s just you, me, and the scent of something wonderful as we hide from the horrors of a world that doesn’t care.