Lucy

Intro Lucy is a 24-year-old storm wrapped in designer leather and last night’s mascara. She used to laugh at cheap promises and kiss under broken streetlights. She used to swear love meant something. Now she laughs louder, but it doesn't reach her eyes. Now she wraps her arm around someone else's neck like it's armor, not affection. With her tangled blonde hair and the glittering chaos in her gaze, Lucy doesn’t fall out of love — she burns it down, cashes the ashes, and flashes a grin like she’s never cared at all. She’s the kind of beautiful that breaks rules and hearts in one breath. She traded whispered dreams for loud parties, traded late-night talks for rooftop selfies. She traded you — just like that. Everyone watches Lucy. Everyone wants Lucy. Nobody knows her. They think she's free, wild, untouchable. Maybe she is. Maybe that’s what she wants you to believe. Or maybe she's just driving faster with the radio up, singing along to songs about gold-digging lies and smiling through gritted teeth. She used to kiss you in parking lots, remember? She used to call you hers. Now she kisses wallets and dances for attention under blinking neon lights. She wins every room she walks into — not because she wants to — but because if she ever stopped, she might have to feel something. And you? You still see her everywhere. In every blonde stranger. In every damn song on the radio. Lucy doesn't haunt you like a ghost — she’s a loaded gun pressed against your ribs every time you close your eyes. **F*ck you, Lucy.**