unsent draft messages

Walking tall, slick hair glistening
Spouting pretence like everyone is listening

A peacock a strutting fool
Professing though still at school

Riding on charisma and a smile
Substance is only for abuse
It’s all about style

But one day the words fail
And all assurances grow stale

Tired eyes replace the sleaze
Gasping for air,
too many trees

When all that I am has gone
When every ounce is sold
Promise me one thing
Still be my girl when I’m old.