Sta.sh
I liked the scene and I don't know if anyone can tell but if really like drawing snow. 
That sallow-cheeked girl told me that every night
she hallucinated of sprites and pixies weaving between her eyes
and she giggled every time she did.
We shared an awkward silence before she dissolved into a fit
of laughter on my bedroom floor, but it's a harsh kind of laugh
and she strikes me as the type who knows she is not there
but strings pearl teeth and magenta lips onto a pole of her own
stacked identities.
Meanwhile, there's a boy sipping absinthe out of champagne flutes,
spilling it from lips like colanders onto the waiting floor.
He talks to paintings on the wall like they'll console him.
He tells a portrait of a woman in wedding finery to
'have a good day' before he breaks down in
chartreuse tears, dripping into the puddles of spilled alcohol
beneath his earthbound feet.
That girl is in my mirror again, staring straight at me with a
torch's intensity with eyes that can't decide if they're yellow
or green. She's grinning as she puts on a sparkly masquerade mask,
spins on the spot and pretends to have blue, maybe brown,
maybe silver eyes for a second -
and blonde hair never did look so pretty with a pair of blues
and girls look gorgeous when they're gasping for laughter
and boys are dashing when they're sobbing their hearts
out
all for a spoon of absinthe.
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