by Natalie Burns01 Dec 2013
Eyes dry as paper,
trying not to panic,
the key was her body.
A hand, just matter
what she wants,
what she needs,
what she deserves,
an unlikely artistic,
only a peeling facade of her own shame.
A champagne friend,
she plays merrily, repeatedly
A notorious gossip,
a rush of love from a cocktail party queen.
how she squirms when the pop comes
and foam drips with uncouth laughter,
as deep red faces, refuel glasses.
She could do with a nap
some compassion, a few light thoughts are what she needs.
A whole life of wasting time,
that little spark of seventeen,
You want to help,
I've seen your tears remember.
A little child, she trembles at each visit
a smile and thumbs up for being well and truly fucked.
You speak of soothing and reach in,
an invader of privacy.
She gives a breathless, nervous laugh
as she unscrews