"i like you, boy," she said,
through gritted teeth and a bloody smile-
hidden behind the lense of her camera,
she captures his life in black
and white photographs, all beautiful,
all still hanging on a clothes line
to dry. she cries mascara stains on
her prose, all about him, all poetically
tragic in the worst kind of way.

"it's been years now," she says,
over the phone to a face she
barely remembers. she doesn't
develop her own pictures anymore,
and she hasn't worn mascara
since he lieft. "i miss you, boy,"
and he breathes an inaudible reply.
broken promises mean nothing to her.
broken hearts mean less.

04/26/2004

Posted on 04/27/2004
Copyright © 2026 Lauren Pearl