Beautiful men. She stops.
She sounds like early days in a young boy’s summer. Like a good sizzling on my godmother’s stove. The joy a kid finds when she discovers the sound a slap bracelet makes on contact.

She goes. Beautiful men should have flowers too. Lips. Parted.
Beautiful men.
Should have her. Be loved good. Be good.

Pick me. Only me.
I begged.
I’m good. I’m beautiful. I deserve nothing that will lose its life to be with me.