Vanishings

Don't think I don't know. Your face is a veil, thin and transparent, showing bright-lit flashes of thought and sound. You are the saddest gypsy dancer I've ever seen. Your body is pathetic and wasted. You ignorant thing, anyone can see you starve yourself. Your face is a skeleton with skin. Your eyes are sunken, dark, and lifeless, like stars seen through tinted windows. You could put all the luminescence of the moon in your eyes, and it would fade. Just like love. Just like fog. Like trust. And the bangles, covering from your wrists to your elbows, I know about those too. They cover up the scars vying for first place with the rest of you. T