Lady from the forgotten streets

Tonight, my eyes don't have the luxury to cry,
For years,the Sun will have overshadowed the rusty whispers of truth,
That starry nights guard, those dews of curses cloaked under darkness,
Something beyond broken, on the mirror, that looks like me,
Smeared makeup, untamed hair, lowered head into open laps,
Ringed fingers, grey moustaches, red lipstick stains on your shirts,
Tear stained jokes in my pants.
Swimming selfish intersections of melancholy, money and morals of the devil,
In the light, there's no detail.
Two people in each other's arms, it's almost love
The scandalous tale, sorrowfully for "sale"
A dolled up destruction,finest in the forgotten streets,
Waving at the ghosts of you on a stroll,
Someday reminisce this w***e painting blood stained art,
Shadows of wild limbs intertwined, i alone would call it an art.
I am a beautiful constellation of broken stars
Moulds growing on my bones from the names i have been called,
Only this silky skin craves to be felt without your touch
Even when these lips are dirty with the tastes of sin
With dried leaves and old fruits, organic and free of guilt,
Every penny adds a new shade to my scar.

Love for sale�'�