dim Inferno

[Sandbags beneath her eyelids, wheezing within the crevices of her dried broken heart]

Deprived of jocund moments, her times are full of torments.

[Insomnia mysteriously bought her nightlife.]

This burden on her - like gravity calling her to the ground, no matter how hard she tries to rise.

She cries as much to fill basins until her eyes become raisins [reddish.]

The flames paint her cheeks a different shade of [pink], whenever fire flames embellish shadows to create an illusion of your image.

She then throws back to the days she tagged you; "My light in my too often dim world"…

[Sandbags beneath her eyelids, wheezing within the crevices of her dried broken heart]

A loathsome unobtrusive strain of a feeling…

[Her life remains a mosaic]

She's an art piece formed from the pieces of your disgusting ways, which when put together looks far more uglier than pain.

[She's hurt] - No length of reasoning could measure the depth of her lesions.

What you see on the sides of her face are not dimples, - they are dents caused by the effects of her sad narrowed face when she slept off thinking of you. 

[Sandbags beneath her eyelids, wheezing within the crevices of her dried broken heart]