death hands her
a shattered piece
of glass,
as she held
the shard,
memories of
her life
flash before
her eyes,
and there,
she knew
what to do.
the glass is
pierced through
her wrist,
dots of red
start to show,
shade as wine
comes out of
her wrist,
leaving a
tingling and
burning sensation,
it hurts at first,
until sometime,
it's like a guilty
pleasure that
you want to taste,
and she keeps on
cutting her wrist
with the shard,
one, two, three, four,
she just kept
wanting more.
then,
the wine starts
to drip,
just like waterfall,
wondering if it
would end,
warmth of
the blood
leaves a
feeling of
comfort then,
her heart
begins to race,
suddenly,
thorns crawled
from the wound
onto her arms,
and after,
the roses.
death's fingers
laced in hers,
they shared
the color of
wine,
the pain
of the thorns,
and at that
moment,
a thought
dawned at her,
leaving a
mark of joy
on her paled
lips.
this is her home.
