She drifts between shadows
Searching for callers
Who only seek the presence of her flower
That blooms within a kiss

She listens close to their desires
As she takes in the seeds
Planted with their sword of lies

Twisted is the windmill of thought
That surrounds her shadowed world
Falling for their shattered reality
Instead of seeing her very own

She longs for the delicate taste
Of a heart that bleeds only for her
Only to find empty serenades
And paper mache dreams

©4-27-08
Kimberly Dawn Sanders

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Serenade the Junkie Queen