the reflection off the river
illuminates the darkest corners of her mind
the buzz of the crickets
competing with the buzz of the wine
Her being ablaze.
the calm of the ripples
is no match for the constant tornado
She burns away like the amber of Her cigarette
her old life
a faint hum in the distance
It calls for Her.
the never ending sleepless nights
have reemerged a new addiction
Does it ever end?
or is it a reality within Her fiction...
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