tiara of a b-movie starlet
she was the "it girl", the one to see, all color and flash and light with just the hint of a promise she would never keep, that you would never hate her for breaking. And now she sits in a veil of smoke with her lipstick leaving memories on the filter, and tells you in a voice like silken sand that she has always been here, and will be here long after you have gone on to better. She is in the structure of it all, she is the neon and the mosaic and the seashells and she permeates every fresh coat of paint laid over collapsing plaster. She is what she is, and pretends nothing more. And at night, in sultry summer or wistful winter,she puts on her tiara and opens her arms wide and says Come. Remember.
