Her Shadow

Her shadow’s in the shape
Of a five foot nine man
But she’s just a little girl
The little girl with no hands
Sipping whiskey through a straw
To find the taste of his lips
Sitting there amongst the thistles
Longing for his fingertips
Her mouth fills up with liquor
Which tastes an awful lot like pain
And her head is filled with spiders
Spinning webs within her brain
Her wings had been forgotten
Stolen by a foggy stranger
She had never been an angel
So there wasn’t any danger
Now the rain starts pouring down
A crown of droplets on her head
She crawls in between the monsters
That hide beneath her tainted bed
When the sun breaks through once more
She will sleep a hundred years
And as the girl weeps in her slumber
Her shadow wipes away her tears