lit cherry

shes written enough bullshit
to wear phonetic burdens
as simulation for personal armageddon
but it's all meaningless
meaningless attempts at rehabilitation
and I miss her reflection
pulling me under her second moon
mildewed on a photograph

she's a sanguine disposition
bound by earthen sorrow
don't mourn young one
the frost wind shall still whisk back your hair
with baited sighs
and tired moans
she whispered muliebrity in soliloquy
and I'd believe her
if she didn't weep the words
behind a jaded smile

she's utterly fevered and distant
like a lit cherrys quarantine
crystalline jailers serenade
about a weeks wasted breathe
and an empty carton of cigarettes
but it's time to leave that madness behind
poised in smoke and mercury
for now