With a fringe too long for her forehead and lips too swollen to speak,
she offered her body towards the moon and then lowered it into the creek.
With feet too trod on to follow and knees too bloody to bear, she felt her heart beat under the water then brought it back up for some air.
Please, she will never care.
With a skirt that she never paid for and teeth too crooked to show, she remembered a boy she once met at the water so many cruel years ago.
He loved her dancing, dark ringlets, and her bitten down nails the same, but it wasn't enough, she called his bluff and he walked away smelling like shame.
Please, take the blame.
With skin too pale to notice and eyes too vacant to paint, she closed them tight, wished the creek a good night, and swore she'd one day be a saint.
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