Delusional hopeless romantic inside a dark dusty mind

Where did that girl ever get to, anyway
She was raised a choir girl & every body knew it
Except her, she was the virgin who ran around with the whore
She believed in God but she never talked to him
She spoke to the mirror on the wall instead
She spent her entire life trying desperately to fall in love, and one day, she did
When asked what she wanted she’d answer, everything
But the truth was, to give up
Baby wanted her white dress and diamond rings back
She was a careless impulsive creator with an exceptionally poor craft
She was pale as a ghost in winter and she haunted strangers
She told me, “my mother clipped her wings, and I’ll spend my whole life trying to grow them back”
I laughed, sweetheart, there are no fucking wings on your back
Jolene A. Harkletter, The Girl in the Black Dress

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