Scars

Alter Ego

I met a girl today,
with a purple smile and yellow teeth,
she took me to the fields and we would lay in the grass and stare up at the sun like it was nighttime,
I listened to her little voice speak of heartache, religion, 50s music,
aliens,
and beet-nick films,
she spoke of nonsensical rants,
but I craved to go deeper into the conversation, so I asked her,
"As a person, who the hell are you?"
She laughed with palm trees stuck to her gums, sighed, and began to tell me that her bruised knees grew flowers,
mostly roses,
although she never watered them,
she told me she is addicted to smoking her hair by the roots,
she told me that writing her legs into love poems no one reads keeps her up at night,
she told me she held the missing link in her ribcage, that in school she would chip away at her arms all the way to bone marrow,
that at the end of each week she lies in bed for hours counting how many eyes she's made contact with,
she told me that she regulates how many steps she takes in a day,
at some point she stopped talking,
they then explained to me she was uncomfortable,
but why?
She left me in the fields,
with a cross burned into my chest and my palms caked in honey,
she left me,
I couldn't tell if this girl is broken or beautiful.