Red lipstick,
Marking the glass,
That she drank from,
To make her so elegant.
She sipped precisely,
Each one getting larger,
Until they became,
Large gulps.
A frenzied walk,
Struggling to stand,
And Brain pounding,
She looks like Hell.
She seems all set,
To vomit on the tablecloth,
Instead she vomits on the floor,
And collapses, crying.
She lets out her secrets,
Sobbing the whole time,
And I sit next to her,
Arm around her shoulders.
I lift the cloth,
That was over the spill of red wine,
And gently press it to her lips,
Wiping away the vomit.
I take it away,
And left there is a stain,
A red lipstick stain,
Like blood...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem