Vodka Breath

She was beautiful once

At least you’d like to think

The days were not kind to her

Skin wrinkled and split

From years of alcohol, cigarettes and heavy make up

She’s a shadow on bones of her former grace

Clinging on desperately to how it used to be and feel

Wondering

Where the fuck it’s all gone

No friends except vodka and mixer

And the yellow staining sticks

Glass in hand

She is loud with no audience

She’ll try to grab at anyone that comes close

Forcing stories that have no end or punchline

Just filled with eager smiles or her rasping laugh that once was so charming

Looking at her you’re not sure whether she’s 30 or 50 or somewhere in between

Short skirt

Denim jacket

And rooting peroxide hair

Lipstick caked

Some of it taking refuge on her teeth

Either she has trouble letting go of her youth

Or she still has some

That she must get out

And put on show

Now she is slurring

But it’s raining outside but she doesn’t have a proper jacket

Or umbrella

And she’s in heels

And just doesn’t want to go home

She tells me as I pour her another

A group of young men come in

And she attempts to mingle

Some lonely people are good at finding company

Or at least forcing themselves upon it

She flirts with them

As if it was the good old days

But her passes at them are met with awkward eyes and smiles

She is losing herself to some drunken nostalgia

Clasping their necks in struggling embraces

They laugh and humour her

But you can tell the novelty is wearing thin

The smell of alcohol seeping through a person’s lips

Has nothing to do with the tongue, teeth or throat

It is the alcohol flowing through the person’s veins

Once the heart pumps enough

The level is so high

The lungs themselves become beacons to the sober

Funny that the heart betrays itself of its wants

Slackened

She dribbles into one of the men’s ear

I can almost see the wretched hopeless vapour

As her lungs spit out toxins

He pushes her away and shouts at her to

FUCK OFF

There is a silence

She looks at him in a way that would have broken hearts when she was in her prime

Now it’s just pathetic

Like an old animal that knows it’s going to be put down

She looks to the floor and potters away

Standing alone again at the opposite length of the bar

I was surprised she didn’t put up more of a fight

She must have lost it

With past back-hands, black eyes or trips down stairs

Her hearts only purpose is to pump round bloodied vodka

No love or lust

Just the bitter memories that she will never forget

She sips as a tear travels down her cheek

She wants the old feelings back

But only the good

Quickly people forget struggle only for it to repeat

She smiles at me

Her red, glazed, glistening eyes bore into mine

For just a second

No longer loud

And now wounded

I feel I should reach over to her

And give her some promising, loving words

Some foolish, empty sense of saving her

But the scene is broken

And she turns

And walks out the door

To find more fumes for her lungs.