Crashing through the door, 
I flung my indigo velvet stiletto off my foot,
scrubbing messily at my teary cheeks.

My fingertips inked with mascara.
Love was set in carbon footprints.

Deep, steady breaths. 
Mouth opened in a pucker.
I inhale a scream and think of the nail polish you wore
tonight. 

Violent purple,
violent like how you dug your nails into the soft flesh of
my palm,
(my breath stutters)
violent like how you stormed through the ballroom with eyes
sharp as your mother's reprimand,
(my heart beats frantic)
so violent.
(I know I'm in trouble now)

Like how my love (obssession, dream, infatuation) was, is
for you.

I gather my curls into my fist,
snip, snip, oh,
you're not going to like this.
Which is partly why I do it.

Partly because I crave your attention, 
no matter what form it may be in.

Even if that crave is your piercing screams in my ear, even
how you rip at the frills of my lavender dress, 
and ravage me against the graffito-scribbled walls of the
bathroom on the 3rd floor.

I run my mascara-blackened fingertips through my hair.
Shake my head a few times.
I feel barren.
With.
This.
Little.
Hair.

Oh, you're so not going to like this.
My insides quake at the memory of your hard, unforgiving
touch.

I carefully step around scraps of torn clothes, shards of
glass apple cider bottles and multi-colored heels.

I'm sitting on the ledge of the window,
running my hands through my cropped hair.
A smile pulls my lips up a quirk.
You liked to yank my hair in the throws of your passion.
Though you'd ever admit it,
and I'd receive a tear-stinging pinch in my hip,
if I ever repeated this out loud.

Flashes of the firm but smooth cut of your lips.
Your dizzy whispers in the sand.
Our identical, sweaty screams.

"I'm standing in the pain that's smothering me,
it's more than common my own -- can see,
that I'm starving for your love and I,
need attention or I'm gonna dieee.."

I love you.

Do you know what you to do to me?

Nothing but a gasp leaves my throat as I am flung off the
window ledge. 

A sweet euphoria singing in my blood, pumping in my
adrenaline.

"Hena!"