Regrets are denied...

...but they still exist

Someone tosses something around just to take the wounds and scars the shards create. Lying down in a cold darkness, breathing the strange, pungent smell in the air. Fog dances around the eyes, flickering lights. Bloody tears drip down the cheeks, a strong taste of iron on the lips. Fingers rush, shaking legs, looking for the next round while shadows hollow in the dark. A few sheets float around, letters written but never read. Strings of words, strings of unspoken dialogues hanging in the air like birds never set free. Hands on hips, hands on the neck. A sharp pain digs through the swirling schemes. Barely alive, but lust keeps going. Shivers hush down the bony spine before long fingers reach inside. Sweet like booze, sour like wodka, tongues roll and roll. Sun fades behind the covers, tiny dots of blackness tearing up the sight. Damped sounds follow, screams are purified and lost to an unknown quietness. Slowly moving forward, more lines and words on ripped papers. Triangles and bubbles and red lights. Sweat hands grasp onto naked skin. Shy memories, beautifully recovered for a few seconds. Eyes of green, laughters and dreams. But they end abrupt. Deemed to this fate. Boiling water greets the skeleton. Seconds grow. Hours and hours, seemingly. Sounds echo in the mind, the cracking and sizzling. Franticly turning off the heat just to realize it is lost again. Carefully embracing the decaying body. Before the mind is ready to realize what has happened, the images are incorporated forever. The scenario closes behind the eyelids, never forgotten, always repeated...