Flashing

You used to be the gem of the ball
all the people who mattered can tell you
they remember your face
they took pictures of you, all around flashing lights
the memories they had of your beauty seemed so bright
love, you were the dame
that every man wanted to be flaunting
when their abstinence no longer remained
but the photographs they got you to autograph
are now becoming stained
they don't seem to recognize the wet spark inside of the old flame
you're losing your brain
soon headlining obituaries, but magazines will no longer feature your name
people suddenly aren't in to you and won't schedule an interview
cause something seems to to eating away at what was left sane
the closeups are getting dim
and 'Missed by All' will be the next caption that they place,
laced inside your frame
surrounding your old pictures
no one wants the new portraits
the feelings the crowd had now have become forfeit
it such a sad sight, seeing your photograph lapped with black roses
people frequent the funeral, hoping to strike poses
they were with you when you had it all
then they gracefully watched you fall
and tip toed around your pain
like rain against gravitational forces
why did you let them let yourself crash
and begin to rehash all of the photo flashes
except nowadays, all you get is the negatives
but I miss the old you
the you that no one really seems to remember
they just blew you full of smoke and pick away the embers
I miss the gem, that I cherished more than others
I miss talking like we used to, I miss you Grandmother.