Don't drink and drive ||
She wore red lipstick
and a black, short dress.
Her smile was wide when she told her mom, she loved her and would come home at 2 am.When she arrived at the party, he was already there.
Her cheeks flushed and her knees became shaky.She danced.
And she laughed.
She even managed to talk a few words to him.
She had fun.
Chatted with her friends.But she didn't drink.
Not a single sip, even when Maggie told her, she should have some wine because it was so good.
She always said no, even when he showed up and offered her a drink.
Even when he tried to kiss her and mumbled, she should definitely have some tequila.Because her mom always said "don't drink and drive".
"Don't drink if you're the one behind the wheel." she said. "Your life's too precious to throw it away."
Yeah, while everybody stumbled to their cars, she went to her car, proud that she listened to her mom.
"You see, mom? I'm a good daughter", she'd say to her mom when she'd come home. "I didn't drink and drive."
Her eyes were laying on the dark street in front of her while she was humming her new favourite song.
She thought about his eyes and his attempt to kiss her.
She thought about her trip to LA that she planned to do in a month.
Yeah, she did everything that her mom had told her.
Little did she know that in a few seconds, her car would crash another car.
Little did she know that he was sitting in that car, drunk and unconscious.
Because he did drink.
And yet he drived.And now she was laying there, all in red.
With a red dress, laying in a pool of red blood.And she knew she was gonna die.
She'd never come back home.
Her lips were slightly opened and she managed to to say "I'm sorry mom."The medics arrived, she could hear them saying that she had lost too much blood.
"But he will survive", they said and these bitter words stung her heart.
And everything she could think about was that she didn't drink and drive. She did nothing wrong.
He was the one who drank and drove.
And yet she was the one to pay.
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the sea ✓
PoetryMeine Gedankenwelt ist wie das Meer. Stürmisch, sacht und wild und laut und manchmal auch unerträglich leise. Und wenn meine Gedankenwelt schweigt, wenn die Stille hier unerträglich wird, dann schreibe ich. Dann schreibe ich diese Geschichten, um m...