KYLE SLEDGE

Pink-locked pixie goddess
Sprinkling magic dust on stars
Hands covered in ink and scars
No, she’s not a novice

An expert in old hurt
Hidden behind those blue eyes
Her past lives and bright hair dyes
Tell a story of birth

A crowning achievement
Sent shockwaves through skull and spine
Heavenly bodies aligned
She struck gold with talent

Agents rushed her westward
The silver screen awaited
Her debut celebrated
Schlocky sci-fi pictures

Cinema to boob tube
The work remained consistent
Behind-the-scenes assistance
She bled, blossomed, and bloomed

Foundations, primers, stains
Powders, concealers, and creams,
Her kit even stashed some weed
Easing each long day’s pains

A cancer plagued the bones
Marrow mired in myeloma
Chemo trips to Pomona
She killed foul chromosomes

Rail thin in remission
Ready to take on the world
Her oyster bestowed a pearl
Signaling transition

Alive amongst the glitz
Aware of the fantasy
Committing to make-believe
She masks the prosthetics

She’s a virus
She spreads through your head
Memory’s where she sleeps

She lies dormant in thought
She crawls in from the dark
A nightmare learning to dream

Don’t let her
Whisper a single word
You can’t believe when she speaks

They’re just empty remarks
Designed to capture your heart
A truth hiding in deceit

The reflection she leaves in the mirror
Belongs to an unwilling host
She’s less than the living loving
A coin operated ghost
A lie masquerading as enigma
A spirit disguising its soul
An antidote laced with pure venom
A human who’s filled with a hole

Born in vain, made of smoke
Lost in pain, soaked in hope
When the rain falls, she’s the first to know
Perhaps some day, all her woe will float
Away