shades of many

(I will use any excuse to pop in a Sasha picture)

Growing up I wanted to be just like you. You wore your hair so pretty. Curls caressing your cheeks, brushing up against that perfect skin, ice cold. Your lips were crimson cut like petals. Sometimes I thought about kissing you. I used to dream about your powers. How sweet you would snap your fingers and every man came crawling on their dirty knees. How the light would turn a brighter shade when you entered the room. You were blinding, and intoxicating. Even my mother treated you like her own. I think she might have loved you more, who knows. Your words filled me with ambition. Your beauty killed my spirit.

When I turned 16 I took your role. It was a lucid meeting. You held your hand out and promised me the world. Told me stories from your life. Death row and cocaine trips. I was ready. Ready for you to take and mold me to fit your need and wants. I would have done anything. I did. Played with courage, heartbreak. Danced with anger, killed regret, held hands with fear. You gave me a voice that suffocated me. Glamorous. How happy I was giving up everything I knew. I would have sold my soul for a classic Chanel handbag. One that would showcase the irony of everything I am, and everything I was trying to be.

Lived for drama taught by you. Glorified as if it was something to strive for.

You and I, we were covered in dust with our designer threads, hanging off the body, ghostly presence, nicotine stains. We walked the roads just to say we did it. Reality is boring - you said it one night, and I believed it. We could live off this wonderland high forever.

But we didn't.

I woke up one night drained, and spotted with shame all over my face. You were passed out on the floor, I was in the bathtub splattered, a mere shadow of what a human used to be. There you were, Ms. Vogue, makeup smeared, alcohol chic. You had just gotten a facial - none of the pure kind. You always told me that a man's ego lies below his waist. That night you taught me plenty about power, and it took me 2 tries to destroy a man properly. That night was our last together. I left you on the floor, with his ego dripping off your lips. That night you were killed, but it was a glorious 5 years.