My eyes were drunk with notions of Monte Carlo,
of emerald diamonds,
of wanting to swim in a bathtub full of champagne,
It was true that I had earned the debauchery I had become so fond of,
these nights of recklessness were memorable,
if nothing else,
necessary for those last bed ridden moments of my life,
so I could look up at the ceiling and imagine it to be full of pink fireworks,
endless moonlight,
For many years,
many,
my feet bled in the chorus line,
because I believed in sequins,
in decadence,
in things that I wanted being things that I needed,
I led a very good life before I opened my eyes,
believing that you would come back for me,
because you imagined I was the only antidote to your loneliness,
but that I was not,
I was nothing more than a muse,
and muses,
they often go missing,
that they do---
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