My exultant eyes burst into tears, 

He knows not the meaning of which.

Crimson half moons rest on my neck, 

His sharp nails dug in a shade too deep. 

He is my pink mascara,
His lips smell of poppers, 

He can keep the regret colour memories....

I just want to smell of freedom,
I have always been the topper.

22. 04. 2012