Poem -
a cough
distractions to all its beauty
she Lit a joint in one hand
and a glass of his blood in another ...smiling she is
her hair set in a madness of her thoughts
what happened pointing fingers to her head
he hasent left yet
his bags are packed
she now on the floor looking ....between cushions searching
hand bag empty to the wooden floors
a norm to her needs
her face changing colours to color
the phone off the wall to a smash
no answers now fuck him
just another day another smoke
another drink
to the washroom to continue
pull your pants up
broken mirrror to a cough
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