desperation
crept up her spine and
narcissism
threatened to grow like a vine
up and down her bony frame

what would bloom on her shoulders?
poison
ivy,
hibiscus flowers?

weeds?

"make me something more than I am
something like romance in the winter"
she whispered in a deaf man's ear
safe in the knowledge he wouldn't hear

she ripped at the vines growing up her arms
and they only grew back

old habits die hard