platinum blonde

Who is that girl?
In the red dress
Writing her name
In cursive
With her hips,
Out on
The dance floor?
The platinum blonde hair. . .
Is that real?
I can hear what she is saying
Inside her head.
Is this me?
Don't think.
Just dance.
Smile.
That cherry red lipstick smile.
Shiny and painted on with such care.
Perfectly matching her fake nails.
That platinum blonde hair. . .
It can't be real.
Tick. tick. tick.
Goes the bomb,
Like the
Click. click. click.
Of her chunky heels
Against the mock-marble floor.
Tick, tick, tick,
Click, click, click.
Tickticktick!
Clickclickclick!
Slam goes the bathroom door.
And the tears flow like
The ice water
From the faucet.
I can hear what shes saying
Inside her head.
I hate this. I hate you!
Why can't I deal with this. . .nothingness?
This is nothing. Nothing nothing.
Nobody knows that the click click and the tick tick
Finally went off for the night.
Because she wouldn't dare let you see
Past that cherry red smile,
That dance.
Those perfectly matched fake nails
And that perfectly platinum blonde hair!
She wouldn't dare let you see her fall apart
And actually let you see
How much those words
Kill her.
Finally she paints on that cherry smile.
And with her perfect fake nails,
Smooths that perfectly platinum blonde hair.
And her perfectly matched heels
Click against the mock-marble tile.
She has to go she says
After a few perfect drunk guys chat her up.
As she walks through the door.
You ask "Who does your hair? That can't be real!"
"It's not," she says with that cherry smile.
As she runs out the door
And lets the rain soak her platinum blonde hair.
Melting it away.

No comments: