Radioactive Decay

Her legs were like roses on a pull-out flower bed,

she bloomed when opened but when closed, she’d be dead.

Her voice was a river, laughter bubbling like a steam,

and roaring like a current every time I heard her scream.

Her sweet nothing whispers drifted like trash in the city wind,

text messages read like letters from a sinner to the sinned.

I felt a connection, but her hair was cable wire,

love was a game of telephone, but I was playing with a liar.

But all the world’s a stage, so I’m playing a fool,

because I know tomorrow I’ll see her again at school.