Imogen (with mood board)

I'm the sad girl in white Mary Janes. Who ties herself to the railroad tracks. Mama won’t let me pick the black carousel horse, that filthy thing. Oh her velvet ribbons, vanilla throat. She paints Daddy a pretty picture, sipping Constant Comment, fevered by romance novels and grandfather clocks. The man outside my window breathes smoke and ice onto the panes. His brackish outline. How it begins as a taste. A gnawing. The white, delicate breath while darkness aches in my teeth. I dream of a funeral fit for a queen. The coffin filled with the loveliest pink fish. Always the tree branches scuffing my shoes. I'll perch there all day, watch the house from afar. My sister's face pushed tight against the door frame. The lace of my dress falling towards death.