A Woman
Her heart no longer skips beats, nor does she feel the burn in her gut.
By Lucero Chavez RiveraPublished 3 years ago • 1 min read
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Two Human Beings. The Lonely Ones (1894) by Edvard Munch.
Her face, beautiful, with eyes like rum sitting in the sunlight.
She stared in her empty glass, the feeling similar.
Another love lost in one night, a pity.
Her heart no longer skips beats, nor does she feel the burn in her gut.
No twinkle in her eye, she pours more rum until her mind becomes muddled and she loses her time.
She looks to her bare walls, one picture hangs, covered in dust from years.
She frowns.
The man and woman happy, her eyes twinkled in the still image, and her smile was brilliant.
Never again.
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