deadflower

the wind chills me to the bone...
i have no home... no comfort zone...
this routine is no cuisine...
not a meal for me...
razor blade kisses...
leaves no stitches...
i love my scars


~end


memory lapse:
today at the bank there was this cute old lady in line behind me, i noticed she had dropped one of her gloves. i bent down in my 4" platforms, which seem to startle her, to pick the glove up and give it to her. she thanked me and told me it was good luck... and to have a good day... now i just wonder when that good like will happen.


~end