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Bar Code Stripes
A comet in the sky,
she came with flaming hair and icy eyes.
We don't talk about the swallowed pills.
I saw them on the dresser,
sitting in a dish like cyanide candies.
Her voice is dripping midnight existentialism.
She craves symmetry and lavender soap suds.
I'll never understand why she helps them guide
the knife towards her
Arches her
back as
she leans into it
to save them the trouble.
She lives in
barcode
striped
black and white
trepidation
but maybe tonight she will dream in color.
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