she was moonless holding darkness for a frame with silhouettes too expensive to maintain and she’d succumbed to her dusky timeline, waking to life each sunset, on known murky streets. her magenta lips masked beneath her veil, cloaking her physique, hiding her form which she forever felt was devoid of any substance and this, this was right before her demons purged any sense of dignity in her, to her death. every twilight her will was murdered in the hands of lewd elite men with enough pocket change for her rates. numb, winter lingered, breaking her water, birthing sorrow and still, without solace in her pitch black abyss.
for all the tears shed, solitude abound, her worst fears tarrying—she’d perish without finding the sun and this consumed her entirety.
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