Scones and Collarbones

July 22, 2008
She’s got the highest cheekbones
The ones they fall in love with
Her negatives provoke positives
Fire burns in the belly
air wallows around
inside of it like a twister
it doesn’t matter
here comes a mister.
She doesn’t really exist
If you squint your eyes you’ll see
That she vanishes
Flickers on and off like a
light bulb hanging onto its last atom
Emaciated, celebrated
Her bloodless lips smile at the sun
She’s won
yet she’s falling so fast
"beautiful, beautiful"
they say
"can we get a round of applause?"
And her collarbones
Are living like creatures on her skin
They dance in the spotlight
And the little girls stand on their tiptoes
Wanting to see
Her empty, broken hourglass body
The one that holds on for dear life
Her stomach aches for
Scones and cakes
She’s so fragile
The world watches as she breaks
They watch through camera lens
And the little girls watch through magazines.
She’s floating
And they love her
She’s melting
They celebrate her
Her bloodless lips are stoic
Her insides crash
With her heart crying in its pain
She floats pass the platters
that hold scones and cakes
Her scrawny hands are trembling
As they reach for a scone
She’s reaching it, she’s almost there!
But her arms drop limp to her sides
She exhales at her ugly victory
And floats pass the smiling crowds
She’s so fragile.
And she’s falling so loud.
She's falling so loud.

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