13 shots in, face on the table
A ring on the finger and sparkling blood on the floor
Magic. Magic. She shouted.
That roses he bought me yesterday are still bright.
But my life needs some light
Loud and angry she threw the glass against the wall.
Her nose was perplexed, same fragrance?
She stood up, searching to reach that smell here and there
Drifting swiftly next to him
Breathe, Travelled far away
Poisons inside her alcohol started reflecting
And she almost drowns
Who could be that bitch
With whom he slept last night
Tears streaming down her eyes
Matching her bladed veins and pouring thin blood over the tiles
Out of sense, she forced a slap on her cheeks, to recall things
Her eyes on the verge of giving up
And she recollected her memories,
It was a perfumed she brought and by mistake, it fell on his jacket
But how could she omit that
Before she could react,
Her veins were dark red
And her eyes already went dead.