She

She is rent factory gasses, a
scant harlot shaped sponge
with ignored children,
Unwanted babes with
empty smiles
decorate the faces that fight to avoid her gaze
A brand new misery for every occasion
And the only time you came close to seeing the real her was when she discarded you in the worst possible ways

She was never roses
green clovers, the scent of cloves, the elegant doorways to your soul
the secret keys to the ethereal moonlit contours of the night, the purple dust of galaxies, gold orbs or talismans of ambrosia, remnants of mana scent, galaxies of decadence

She was never the sky..
Never the haunting winds of dusk, never the red balloons that clung with surprise and spun sugar, stained fingerprints

She was only ever the ether of neglect, a narcissistic hate doll, an insincere whisper
Without a doubt, or flower, or planet of regret, without a hook to hang a soul of her own