Blood and Makeup
Drops of blood and makeup
pirouette lightly from the broken tip
of her fine-lined, delicate nose.
A crimson red stain blossomed in her lap.
She slumped forwards on the bar stool.
Her last twenty slipped from her pocket.
It was soiled and crumpled,
and dropped like a tarred butterfly.
She did´nt notice.
Her hair was thin and cascaded downwards
upon scrawny emaciated shoulders
which offered no resistance,
as gravity head-rocked her in slow motion.
Backwards and forwards.
Her dried and dusty tears
fell back upon themselves
in a dance of lonely shadows.
Her anguished screams lingered
forever trapped in cavernous places.
"What you doin here sweetheart?”
“Jus watchin time decay.”
”Where yu goin?”
That was a long time ago.
Now the lights were low and intimate,
and they dissolved
in the hard lines of her wretched face,
while the mirrors on the wall
whispered sad songs,
and she slipped back into a world
where dreams don´t hurt.