I remember the days
when my own eyes scared me
bruised, dilated and punched
with mascara

The walls talked
of cigarette burns and vomit
while we talked of circles
and fucked-ness
like they were virtues
leaving ash trails down the plaster
as we stumbled through nights
believing we were truly alive

Her face smeared the foundation
cracked mirror in hand
an audience of daylight
highlighting the drug-fucked droop
of her eyelids over her dinner-plate eyes
as her boyfriend leaned in
to fuck her mouth with his tongue
in front of our flinching sensibilities
that whispered displeasure
at the flagrantly inescapable PDA

And I sat there and looked down my sobriety
at her uncoordinated roll of movements
that left a splintered taste in my mouth
with the memory of my own
bruised and dilated eyes
bleeding with mascara and addiction

Indie Adams 2014
30 Day Poetry Challenge Day 8
Written by Indie (Miss Indie)
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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