Her Name Was Lily

I met her in
December, with
needles in her hair,
with gold and dark
upon her wrists
and diamonds in her stare.

Her name was Lily,
and she lied.

She spun the world
on silver threads,
with rain clouds
where we walked,
with silver dust and
fairy drops
around us when we talked.

Her name was Lily,
and she lied.

She said that
she was clumsy
while getting out of bed,
she said that she was
much too tall and always
bumped her head-

Her name was Lily,
and she lied.

I lost her in
September,
with slits upon
her wrists-
with blood and gore upon
her chest, and seeping
from her fists-

Her name was Lily-


And she died.