The gloss on the outside drips. Sticky.
Every time she tries to hug herself
Her arms get stuck in sugar sludge
In its sparkles, doused in bubble gum pink.
As the heat rises and the sweat-infused gloss slides off
There she is.
She is the blast of wind catching in your throat
And whipping hair into your mouth.
She is the sharp sting of a deep paper cut
That makes you cuss and gasp.
She is the breathless pain that fills your chest
And pulls tears from your eyes.
She is the rainy duvet morning
The fly in your soup
The eyelash in your eye
The sand in your socks.
She is the raw and the real
The little things that remind you
If you are mesmerised by the gloss
And chasing the sparkles
Then she is too much
She is too fiery
She is ridiculous, insane, depressing, frustrating, annoying…
But wait until you see her laugh
No, her REAL laugh.
Wait until you see her dance like leaves in the wind
Wait until you hear her howl under a full moon
Watch when she is all the elements rolled into one
In her element.
Then she is the chocolate covered strawberry
The balmy warmth of the sun
The music of the waterfall
And the goosebumps on your arms.
While you’re busy chasing the sparkles
In your fear-induced obsession
While you’re too repulsed and afraid
Of her darkness
You will never see her light.
She is all light
She is ablaze
She is volcanic lava
Quick, meet her there
Before she glazes over
And rolls herself in the gloss again
Bubble gum pink, with sparkles.