January 29, 2010
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Bloodstains of a phantom’s past,
the sick memories
forever embedded in the fibers
of the ivory carpet.

The phantom, a man
eyes shining brightly
cheeks burning red.

His blood smells of alcohol
and iron.
it’s Pouring
it’s dripping
to the floor.

He tried to drown
his sorrow
and instead,
the lungs
of his life
are filling

He’s loosing his breath, quickly, quickly.

The woman
is pouring it out
it’s dripping
down the drain.

His poison,
Her pain.

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