My smoky-eyed, blindsided lullaby

Preserving your dreams in cyanide.

What now, do thy demons stalk?

I don't think it will take too long.

My streetwise, glamorized

Pretty girl and landslide

Living your life as a suicide.

You're the daughter that shocks.

What's in your Pandora's box?

Black bra, pantyhose, and Absolut alcohol

Why not go tit-for-tat in an all-out brawl?

Because your friends know there’s a difference

Between blacking-out and tipsy

The apocalypse, my deep-fried fish and turning fifty.

And one other night we should catch a movie

Walking hand in hand in your sublime beauty

And learn the gentle pleasure

Of your sins.

Oh, I want to know

The pleasures of

Your sins.

This poem and more found here: HERE in “A Cartographer,” by Antonio J. Hopson.