She sits…

She sits
drinks her drink
sees the table
beneath her empty glass
remembers the day
when her glass was never empty

She sits
wishes for another chance
at the youth she wasted
chasing attention down dark alleys
mornings spent
trying to piece together the night

She sits
feeling something
something different and new
she cannot reconcile what
or why
or how

She sits
drinks and relives
the dark rooms and loud music
hands over her body
lips tasting her flesh
sweat in her mouth

She sits
cries over the table
refusing to regret
unable to imagine different choices
tears fall onto the table
no one looks her way

She sits
slides the blade
cuts deep into flesh
watches the blood flow
smiles as she grows weak
remembers him holding her
broken glass in her hand
tears falling down her face
she imagines this is what peace feels like.

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