11-19-2025, 06:15 AM
Trashed Beauty
She crawls out of a cracked sunrise,
smelling like metal and last night’s static.
Beauty, yeah — but the kind
you don’t bring home,
the kind that leaves scratches
in places mirrors can't reach.
Her eyes flicker like cheap LEDs,
half-broken, half-holy,
two tiny riots behind chipped eyeliner.
She leans on a streetlamp
as if the whole city
was built just to hold her weight.
She smiles —
not warm, not kind,
just curious how much of you
is still breakable.
Kids follow her like stray sparks,
thinking they can hold fire
without getting redesigned.
She kisses some of them,
only to see what falls off.
She’s not hungry.
She’s bored.
And boredom is the sharpest thing
she carries.
By dusk she’s gone again,
leaving only a smear of perfume,
a dead cigarette,
and that stupid feeling in your ribs
like someone knocked
just to prove the door was hollow.
She crawls out of a cracked sunrise,
smelling like metal and last night’s static.
Beauty, yeah — but the kind
you don’t bring home,
the kind that leaves scratches
in places mirrors can't reach.
Her eyes flicker like cheap LEDs,
half-broken, half-holy,
two tiny riots behind chipped eyeliner.
She leans on a streetlamp
as if the whole city
was built just to hold her weight.
She smiles —
not warm, not kind,
just curious how much of you
is still breakable.
Kids follow her like stray sparks,
thinking they can hold fire
without getting redesigned.
She kisses some of them,
only to see what falls off.
She’s not hungry.
She’s bored.
And boredom is the sharpest thing
she carries.
By dusk she’s gone again,
leaving only a smear of perfume,
a dead cigarette,
and that stupid feeling in your ribs
like someone knocked
just to prove the door was hollow.
