l o l a

she tastes like iron and wine. when i touch her, my fingertips feel the cold she lives. her eyes burn and she drinks pennyroyal tea, like in the songs she sings the songs the desperate sing (for desperate days), wishing she were somebody else, wishing she were just somebody else. she likes black and white pictures and acoustic guitar because it feels like apathy. and she tries her best, not to feel at all. she never says she is sad but you can just is trapped inside her iris and her tears are held within her lids. she uses eyeliner as veils and razors as lovers. when she is happy she'd rather not be. she is pale like snow but not as stark. and when boys ask for her name, she will only smirk. when they ask for her number, she'll write not on their hands. she'll walk under bridges and dream of L.A. she'll smile at the boys but balk at their touch. she is sugar sweet corrosion and her own decay.