By April Lucìa
She seems reckless,
She drinks her coffee black
Never flinches at the hot flick of a lighter,
Or the cold touch of an unfamiliar boy’s hands.
She tastes like black treacle.
She has this way of always making you feel inadequate.
In the public spotlight
She projects this illusion of being fierce,
impetuous,
lionhearted.
But she’s an excellent shadow puppeteer I must say.
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