cerulean: i.

8 2 0
                                    

i.

instead of drugs, she got high on laced words.

with stars embedded in her skin,

and flowers underneath the rips in her jeans.

and there was some kind of alien in her,

almost magical.

insomnia, instead of eyes.

paranoia, instead of lips.

left breathless,

driven by madness.

spinning the constellations,

around and around.

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