Of 'her' world

 Come into my bed
I've got to know, know, know you

Lying in bed she reflected on the past 6 or so months of her life. Blowing out circle of tobacco smoke, not blinking. Breathing or not, she could barely make out.

She could not, she would not. She had no right what-so-ever, to make friends, have acquaintances. That too with her clients?

A relationship, are you kidding me?

Disgusted by her self she sat up, strap of her tank top slipping down her shoulder, eyes smudged black.

Was that a stack of hay or hair on her head?

A little bag of cocaine
A little bag of cocaine

Cigarettes and lies

She picked up the tiny bag on the table infront of her, and grabbed a shot glass. Gulped it down. Felt the burn of both the white fine powder and the tequila shot. Letting the darkness and ecstasy settle inside her.

Stood up stumbling towards the bathroom.

Dared to not look back. To the sleeping body.

The man she fell for.

You will never be my, you will never be my dear
Will never be my dear, dear friend



She had another "client" to attend to.