Harloe

Number Four

Harloe
Ten floors. One breath. Hello, world.
Nine weeks in bed. "Why our girl?"
Eight lies through eyes hugging skies.
Seven flames. Good-bye.
Six flames. Good-bye.
Five mouths irate. This is fate.
Four friends scream hate. "Sorry" is late.
Three piles point miles. Go with style.
Two flames. Good-bye.
One change. Good-bye.

Hollywood, look what you've done.

When dead to man,
She made wings with the palms of her hands.