Portrait

Last night a hazy glow held her,
perfectly positioned to perform.
Red lips, black eyes, skin so porcelain pale.
Standing in the middle of this room,
the glass in her hand.
She gave them what they wanted.

This morning a cautious light unfolds her,
the performance is over.
Colourless lips, swollen eyes, skin bruised and broken.
Foetal in the corner of this bed,
the blade in her hand.
She gave them what they wanted.

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