I am the lover of red lipstick and the mother of all gardens under the moonlight; as the guardian angel of blood drops hitting the walls. I protect those who cry over the lost kiss of a fake love. I hold truth in a box and I never open the box because truth hurts and I’d rather lie to you. I am quick to scorn the behavior but I will always defend it, and maybe you scorn me in my back, but that’s okay. My scars are littered over my body in little connect the dots. I have a million stories to tell and I will trace your eyes in green marker and throw you out to the sea and let you drown with the mermaids. Sirens will scream in your ears; and you will never remember our drunken talks. Heartless is the word to describe me when they ask Who? Who is She? The one who laid her claim upon the starlight of your eyes and they worry about you. Is She the reason your tears are falling to the ground, leaving trails. I am the winter winds and the summer trees, and our ash is weaving its way onto our hands. I am tattooed in the art of murder and it is beautiful, the way some scream. I will build a country and cover it in my rules; my rules are the most complex you will see, but you will follow them. There is not a home in the world I belong to, but I will leave my words wherever I go. My words are not shelter for the homeless, nor food for the hungry. My poetic ramblings won’t stop a war, at least not a big war; but it is slowly healing me as I bow my head and my crown falls. Life is not supposed to end this way. Do not think longer about me back touching your body and don’t remember my lipstick left on your glasses. Throw them all out and I’ll buy you new ones, (you’ve needed new ones for a while, anyways,) and I’ll wipe away my fingerprints along your shiny new car and I will clean my scent, (warm brown sugar, but don’t remember that,) away from your pillows. Please forget my red lipstick and forget my pain, that has smoked into the cracks of my heart, leaving a loneliness that has broken me apart.