A girl.
Barely eighteen.
A thick black armband
covering the slices in her skin.
A fishnet sleeve
covering the needles holes
in the other.
Deliberate greasy strands
covering haunted eyes.
Years of abuse and secrets
hidden underneath
the drug-induced glisten.
A father's fingerprints on
the back of her neck,
and her mothers healing kisses
on her forehead.
Imprints of different kinds of love.
Mascara tears
trailing slowly down her
hollow cheeks.
No one knows why she
cries.
She doesn't think
she can hide.
But her needles and knives do.
She's hiding from herself and reality,
but no one knows.
A glisten is good enough for
some.
