Long eyelashes, cast a shadow below your eyes
On nights, brought to life by candle lights.
Each time you blink, or your lips curl into a smile
I swallow in dread.
You move too much, pretty girl. You die.
You’re like a sad lullaby,
That a dead mother sings to a dead child
Through the buzzing of flies in her rotting throat
To the ears of the babe, somewhere swollen and afloat
Still songs will drape that lullaby in layers of gold
And that’s how, pretty girl, I see you.
A corpse’s lullaby, wrapped in the hollow that’s you
You move too much, I lose my mind
One slip and you go spiraling down into the depths
Of memories sweet, sweeter and repressed
I want you to stay, bleed and be blessed
Oh girls like you, are walking pictures of dead
You move too much, you are breaking my heart
I can see you smiling from frames and postcards
Queen of tragedy, almost too accepting of it.
Don’t move so much, I can already see you dead.