Love me cancerously, like a salt-sore soaked in the sea.
Tuesdays make you smile.
You met her on a Tuesday. Her hair was limp and purple-brown, she smelled like paint-thinner and sour cream.
Her amber eyes looked into your orbs of brown, bloodshot and blurred with drugs and booze.
Vulgar, crass, and delightfully anorexic.
You loved her from the very start.
you were the last good thing about this part of town.
She looked like a drunk Disney princess after a night of snorting lines in the trashiest club on the wrong side of town, the spawn of Bambi
screwing Snow White during her stint in the woods.
You never told anyone before, but you enjoyed taking your sister to see The Princess Frog. After she left you did nothing but watch Cinderella
until the CD scratched. Youwere too depressed to run down to Walmart to pick up another one.
Your bittersweet angel never failed to make you hate her.
Why she had to go I don't know, she wouldn't say.
You asked to see her wings one day, she told you to go fuck yourself, but she did anyways. They were purple and black like the veins in her
eyes, tattooed into her skin, ravaged with pockmarks from needles and razors.
You wished she would die, on some heroin high, so you could see her fly on them.
One day… you did.