Who should  she be

Finding the boundaries that carry us away
The person we portray and the one we confine
Well mannered sexual deviant out of control
The urge to be perfect, held higher then a world on fire
burying her feet in the pit of the ashes with no meaning
Her skin thickened
A kiss from another comfort
A carressing finger tip
A body erratically pushing
Magnificently disturbed, naked on a decaying blanket
Eating burnt cookies and old tea, she will never leave
A foolish love
A half full comfort
She is destroyed and so is the universe circling her
A head held up and mouth forced shut by the whiskey bottle tape to her neck
Silence as she walks blessed
She is nothing but forgiveness