walls are hemorrhaging
beneath layers of fairy wallpaper
skin scratched to the bone.
Panels of blood-red velvet drapes
frame the windows
to the heaven outside.
A young girl sits on the floor,
legs crossed with head turned down.
She is a red rose yet to bloom
in her dress made of paper and scar-tissue.
Scraps of ephemera,
crumbled and thrown in every corner
surround her like a clay pot.
Her tears become sustenance,
feeding her when no one is watching.
Small, pale arms stretch
towards the Summer sunlight
resembling climbing ivy unrestrained.
Fingers bled, wrists cut
in a moment of blood-letting
she imagines the color of love.
