She looks down from her white spire and sees
etched whorls on grey stone of her unwanted entrance way
She pretends to love
gold shingle grit on scabbed bloody laden knees

Smelling the rustic and stale summer air
over looking the Victorian town
she scrunches her faerie face at the swift breeze
that makes her orange hair strands samba
to tickle her freckly nose

as he approaches she begins to shed her tears
she feels she can make him want her this time

She jumps and breaks her legs as he looks up
The pool of blood wets her summer dress and she can feel spreading it all over
she sweats her skin and watches him shake his head and laugh
he walks away and whistles to meet his cousins lonely friend

she messed up her favorite underwear for nothing.

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