Sitting on a rock, of bad memories, your dark black dress, jet black hair, make-up streaming down your intoxicating face...
I watched from the darken-dead rose bush...it's thorns piercing my skin, pale
but I hardly seemed to noticed because...
...
I am watching you from the darken-dead rose bush, watching the make-up stream down your intoxicating face, your dark black dress and jet black hair
I wish I could be you, beautiful, the kind like your not real...just... animated
and as I watch you on the rock, crying your eyes out, I want to comfort you, you seemed so sad
and I know sad
so I walked out of the rose bush
and startled you
you almost ran away but then I asked what was wrong
and you said...
"I am you, that's what's wrong"
and I remember watching you from the darken-dead rose bush, watching the make-up stream down your intoxicating face, your dark black dress and jet black hair
and then I thought, maybe you are me
and then I watched you dissolve into the black night
I opened my eyes, looked down and saw my dark black dress, peeled the hair from my cheeks, jet black, and I wiped the make-up that has streamed down my face...and I stood up from the rock as someone walked out of a darken-dead rose bush 10 feet away... I almost ran
"what's wrong?"
they asked
and as I replied I looked at the person who asked such a question...and they were...
