Strawmary Feels Forever

Saint Marla of Broken Hearts

Marla… yesterday I saw you again. 4.35pm in the afternoon. You were wearing your black UKO jacket covered with cat fur. You were paler than ever. Decrepit, dying, yet so beautiful. The opiate does wonders to your greying skin.

Your hair is not how I remember it.

I turn my back on you. You are with your friends. I feel tension build up on my shoulders. I dont want you to see me. This feeling suddenly is substituted with the enormous need to talk to you. But as soon as I turn my back, you are already gone.

I look for you.

Every time my love turns off like a light-switch, it comes back on more intensely than before. It is as if you’ve become a symbol of all that’s beautiful, all that’s lovely, and all that is sad… a saint. Saint Marla of Broken Hearts and Open Veins.