She sits in front of me, eyes wide and wondering
Fingers clenching. Unclenching.
A soulful smile, twitching nose,
Cheeks full of colour.
She echoes beauty as she
While I speak of devils,
She closes my words,
Envelopes them with a disappointed smile;
She laughs heartily.
I tell her of my thoughtless poetry,
She tells me of her failure to plan life ahead.
We discuss Indie;
Scorn Lana’s lips which we thought too artificial,
We imitate her affecting voice,
Adding higher notes, more words
Like my bedroom wall.