Lampshade highlights the ridges of her eyes

The bruises littering her arm unconvincing

An expensive Prada hitched over shoulder’s edge

The constant lilt of her lips is missing

Hilts of shoes spasmodic in sounding

Limpid, porcelain skin black and blue

Smothered screams in a cache of quiet

Cheek painted with a purple tattoo

Weltered eyes begin to break

Her hearts been split just a fraction

Small, lilliputian and carefully sealed

Crimson lips nothing but a distraction

Wide-awake even after the Sun’s been sleeping

Shouts through holes segregating exemption

Fingers tremulous as the clock’s hand kisses three

Still scared of admitting his false intention

The hour hand covers the black contour of four

Eyelids mask eyes in dark shade for tranquility

The bedlam dulls to nothing as she sleeps

Somnolence gives power to grant culpability

Under the glistening skin of the infinite sky

Heaving breaths undulate her emaciated figure

But morning brings her back to the fray

And she wakes with stolid fingers to find her concealer