Last night, woke up from a dizzy haze where dreams met hopes and my mother walked the endless hallways with high heels and made clicking sounds. She doesn't belong in my dreams, but neither does rainbows. When guardian angels let me down, I tend to turn to my demons.
She came after nightfall, scars and bruises over her thin arms.
- What happend, dear? I didn't do that, did I? I say, barely covering up my worry
- Nothing, nothing happend.
We sat on the floor, exchanged vows and body fluids, when she suddenly opened her bag and pulled out a needle. Just like Louis used to do. Two shots of Stesolid, three gulps of champagne.
- I love you, you know that right?
- Belle.. Don't go there.
Then we exchanged blood, connected by diseases.