Bloody Spill


Kisses of red-lipstick,
covers my glass,
clear water vision,
scracthes my throat.

The women beside me blurred,
talking, forgotten sense of words,
hearing nightmeres of her old bedroom,
or him telling her what he seeks threw a shower curtain.

She is an dull colored complexion,
but she is there,
to hunt my soul,
Women in red-lipstick.

Never knew me but watches,
who's scented,
is spraying perfume everyday,
constant makeovers.

After seeing make-up crumbs on my dresser,
her darkness rare apperance,
she leaves daily, but comes back around again.

Women who I scent in the air,
you are a night chiller in my bedroom window,
In my curtain slowly wanting to see my death dream.

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