A saggy California blue sweater
grundging, slouching
down the monotone hall way,
she hides behind the thick wrinkles of the cotton fabric.
II.

Golden hair catches the afternoon light
dazzling
like the surface of iridescent swaying water.
III.

A life giving heart pumping
and pumping
until it the vains and arteries run dry
it cannot give any more.
IV.

White teeth shyly
peaking
from behind slightly ajar lips.
V.

Red nail polish drapes fingernails,
elegantly waltzing
to the strums of a far away violin.
VI.

A scattered puzzle of a princess scrambled on the yellow saggy carpet,
there are one hundred and four pieces present,
she is piece one hundred and five, lost in the jungle threads.
VII.

Angel wings emerge from a cluttered corner,
embracing her
with omnipotent grace
she sleeps unaware.
VIII.

A lion roars into the stale silent air,
emanating confidence,
inside there is no roar,
only a weak squeak.
IX.

Agonizing pain screams from under rigid skin,
imprisoned in a glass jar,
scratches its way out to liberation never to be found,
she is the jar.
X.

Opium music,
disperses through thick rubbery blood,
addiction with every pulse.
XI.

Fading soft
pearl
lunar rays
entangle
the air,
hidden in the day light.
XII.

A thick wrinkle indented in the corner of a mouth,
a smile never forgotten.
XIII.

A luscious rose stands in the garden,
one petal browns at the edge,
dropping,
held on by straining fibers,
imperfection.