I'm really very pleased with this one. It was school prom on Tuesday night, which has been inspiring me immensely. Feel free to tear apart my proud work.
Sometimes you can't tell that an angel is fading
away until it's much too late. When she's shivering
on the curb, with her silken gown crying around her
pretty ankles; when her make-up smears into uneven
lines over her moonlit cheeks. A lipstick tragedy
hidden behind sweetheart ringlets. She could shatter
the world with her smile, if only the world couldn't
shatter her first. Illumination comes from inside.
His jacket draped over her naked shoulders helped
keep the illuminations burning warmly beneath her
fragile skin. Limousines and champagne have always
been a lethal combination for the sensitive souls.
The atmosphere just became so poisoned with vanity,
and spoiled by contempt, that kings and queens of
the scene were crafted by petty hate. The pulse of
the night beat irregular. The outcasts were merely
slaves to a high school hierarchy. Her downfall was
forecast in the midsummer nights stars, as they shot
to earth and fell heavy against her gooseberry green
eyes. Acid idiosyncrasies thrown into wishing wells.
Frail butterflies trapped in glass jars. Oxygen
deprivation left the softest outside inhaling the
sunset. He was almost powerless to soothe the anguish
carved across her chest; the tell tale markings of
an abused heart. Bruised wings and satin sensitivity.
Her pupils dilated at the choking grasp of the camera's
lens, and exposed her shaking nerves. He was always
best at quiet reassurance and warm embrace; ever able
to calm her panicking blood. He would've realigned the
skies if it made her more comfortable, but knew that
his grip on the clouds was far too weak. Sometimes
fading angels can only be soothed by tarnished saviours.