Her lips are of chapped from the blistering winter
And her cheeks are all rosy -
But don't let that fool you
As they're only scarlet
From that one old harlot
That she met in Lackluster Lane.
Her hair is left down in dark natural curls
That embrace the collar bones
On her thin and sunken chest.
Her mind is numb
And her eyes are now empty
Since she lives on Lackluster Lane.
GMP
Between 08-09/2019
