The guy
passing by asked for a cigarette,
no way.
Short
skirt, shuffling in slippers
Creepers,
The smoke
of the cigarette, the horns, the sings
Vulgar, she
did not even care,
She walked,
numb, with the music that screamed
In his
ears, words that hurt,
Wanted to
keep it that way, maybe at night she would
Cut off,
get drugs, maybe.
She no
longer expected the man,
Words
seduced, lost with the
Speed of
lightning, dangerous toys.
Knives were
safer than a poem, an
Blue-eyed
poem, a play without
relevance.
She forgot,
it did not matter anymore, nor were they
More blues.
His hand
trembled with ember, waiting for the
Wind went
off.
He showed
his finger to the driver of the truck.
Another!
Screw this
crap.
The bridge
was near, the running river called
For the
jump, she felt stomach pain at the thought,
He would
sit there, he would jump there, he would wait.
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