Crimson's Lullaby

God watches her on stage,
dangling her happiness
in a rearview mirror,
as she desperately seeks
her frankenstein man
by piecing together
the salavaged virtues
of ex companions.

She inserts subversive prayers
into the lyrics of her life
through admonitions to a god,
who seems lost at sea.

Tortured by the butterfly blade
along the lips
of her own memories,
the crimson stains
the metal mesh of the microphone,
seeping into the complex circuitry,
distorting and fraying
the reverberating whispers
to her ambivalent deity.

As the song fades
and the house grows silent,
she walks off the stage
drenched in sweat,
purged of fear.

Her one regret,
not seeing me in the rearview mirror.