She wore neon ribbons in her hair. When I gazed upon her, the line between nature and art were blurred. When she entered the room the hairs on the back of my neck stood up. I was only frightened because I didn’t want to miss a moment of her company.
She wore an neon orange ribbon in her hair. The first sunset was our last. We looked out into the horizon, two dreams racing one another side by side, neck and neck, until they were no longer visible.
She wore a neon purple ribbon in her hair. My lust for her was unmatched. Her banter was sophisticated. Peach roses were her favorite. She didn’t care for red. Being unique isn’t about strange preferences I said.
She wore a neon green ribbon in her hair. I was too concerned with uncertainties within. She grew tired of my angst. I sabotaged her purity. I sabotaged my desires. Her face turned red. Her tears flowed for an eternity. I grew tired of my angst.
She wore a neon red ribbon in her hair. This was the last ribbon I would get to see. She threw my things. She ripped through my heart like a tornado through an Oklahoma trailer park. We were both empty like the whiskey bottles scattered around the unkempt room and it was my fault.
She wore neon ribbons in her hair and nothing will catch my eye again.