Her eyes speak a million words,
she, however, talks with her mouth.
Lies are her specialty.

She spits poison on us,
metamorphizing between a butterfly, a koala, and a lion.
Her claws run sharp,
in preparation for battle, she says.
It foolish of her to not see,
I am not dense

Scratches appear on her body
hiding in plain sight.
I see it, I always will.

Why then does she lie?
I see her begging for it.
“A sharpener for my claws.”
Does she want to bring back her light?
Her broken heart sees not that’s it darkness she begs for.

Addiction is what it is.
But, Who am I to say?
I am dense

He wants to bring her back to life,
for his light shines brighter than the sun
making her fall harder every day.
Malheuresment,
She is opaque.