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.
2 comments:
Missed your posts.
Loved this one.
amazingly honest to the point
where I can visualize and feel
the horror laced with the comfort
of this being what I know, what
I knew would happen.
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