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A merlot tablecloth

Bottles of scotch

Cigarette smoke

And tearful eyes.

 

Around the table

Stained with tears

And lovers juices

Juxtaposing characters.

 

His garnet shirt unbuttoned

Women’s glossy hands

Spread over his chest

Caressing his cheeks.

 

His brother, they say

Cigar betwixt plump lips

Staring at me, unrelenting

Stripping rosen skin with reptilian eyes.

 

The beautiful sister,

Modele ou une femme

Sangria dress full of

Puckered breasts, heaving breaths

 

The gun loosens rounds

Knocking stray chips along the

Whiskey sodden table

 

Contemplating the instrument

Pressing it to the head

Of the girl in his lap

Pulls the trigger.

 

She smiles and

Falls to the

Ground.

 

‘Nevermind’, he coos

In his lovelies ear.

That’s why we all

Wear red.


 

See more of my poetry here!

Copyright © 2017 Rebecca Sherratt

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