The night swallowed her
inch by precious inch until
there was nothing left.

She shined in the dark
by rising from the abyss,
growing full and proud.

Behind this stone mask,
can you see all of the tears
which I cannot shed?

Her little black dress
catches all the men’s eyes and
half of the women’s.

Love was cursed for her:
it was a four-letter word
spat by bitter men.

You never loved me
and I knew it all along –
your heart’s another’s.

Silver moon rises
piercing the inky darkness
of my wounded heart.

To all the people
saying I’m not good enough:
goodbye and good luck.

Tell me you love me
and really sell it to me
’cause I need the lie.

The sun paints the leaves,
and the cold frosts them each night –
Autumn has arrived.