the adoration of a girl i know, perhaps

oh, it’s what everyone does,

she says lazily. shoves her index finger daintily into her mouth and

coughs once,

twice,

she turns away and you gaze at her ribcage,

apathetic, maybe,

listening to her gasp.

she turns back around and for a second, looking at

the blush on her cheeks, a splatter of pink-golden-sunrise-love tinting her skin,

the softness of her watery eyes

the sticky-sweet-shine of vomit adorning her lips,

for a second, maybe

she is more beautiful than anything.