the crossroads have seen too many girls
willing to sell their souls
for a beauty that already belonged to them.
a liminal space
where boundaries thin like wisps of smoke
in early dawn light.
but there is beauty in this too, soft pastel colours,
a quiet empty echo of laughter and then darkness,
encompassing and heavy, pressing into lungs
but still radiant somehow.
for now demons count souls
like dollar bills held close to devil red chests, smiles curling
because they think that they’ve won.
but one day those girls will see past black ringed promises
bartered at an intersection of road,
down to the skin that was already perfect
and that quiet empty echo of a soul that had been perfect too.
hell will see.
the four horsemen are nothing
compared to an army of girls ready to reclaim what is theirs.
l.s. | LIMINAL SPACE © 2017