Did she mention how I’m the girl of the moment?

Splashed across magazine cover pages like dripping acid from batteries

Radioactive toxic waste

How could you.

How could you.

Your bright blue eyes, cornflower blue—they said

He’s a gentleman and knows manners long dead

But you really weren’t; not at all what they said

Should I listen to them or the voices in my head?

Tell me this is wrong because it feels so right and I can’t think anymore

No end in sight

Your poisoned words so dark, so deep, penetrating their sickly message beneath

Smudged lipstick and weak resistance

And I’m not too sure what the truth is anymore

So when you tell your girlfriend the next day

Clock’s at 7; the minute hand set slightly off

Where