Born To Promenade Into The Stonewashed Abyss

She inhabits her dresses and her dreams
Close to the surface like satin sleeves

She sometimes speaks of suicide
But suspects she will remain alive

In the magnified moment before she cries
Glistening drops of amber perception
Rain down from the warped evening sky

As she submerges into the swirling current of her mushrooming discontent
She strangles the gentle sputter of teardrops just to capture
The world's scorched reflection rising like heat from the desert of her eyes