Silent Cliches

Screaming through her skin. Ablaze as her body retched in despair. Finding what little comfort there could be in the ivory smooth surface beneath her chin as her fingers clung desperately to the corse ends of her bleached hair.

Confusion floating just beyond her heaving insides, thoughts dancing just behind her desperation for it to end.

Hearing a scuffle nearby, willing her head to peer through the tears the constant heaving inspired.

A lengthy heel covered in glitter jogs a memory as it's owner is dragged, unmoving, from sight.

Coke, vodka, a house full of rooms and men seeking escape with girls seeking more. Cliches running rampant.

Laughter bubbles as she leans her head further down, lips pressed against powder left.