| Dec. 22nd, 2009 @ 03:12 am The Tears of Vegas |
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The girl that lies in her room, in that stunning red dress, alone, is crying. Though she doesn't know, her tears are also mine. My life is dead. I'll know it's alive when I can say the ability to bleed is still a gift.
Spend several days in Las Vegas alone. Seeing hundreds of happy couples together. Staring straight, sipping my caipirinha, sitting at casino bars constantly circled by sirens and harpies. Whispers of "Hey handsome, where's your girlfriend? ( X ) dollars and we'll do anything you want..." in my ears while brushing their hands up and down the side of my face. Running their hands through my hair. Oh how good it feels... Finish my drink and walk away. "Sorry beautiful, I have a date with a special lady." "Lucky bitch..." is the last I heard from this whore.
Dinner in the Roman empire, drinks in Paris, ride the gondolas in Venice. Dessert in ancient Egypt, final conversation drinks in New York. The girl I met two days previous, leaves in mere hours. For three days Vegas will have me still. She invites me to her room.
My jacket is hers before the doors open. The strip is bare as we make the cold walk to the Monte Carlo. The girl holding hands with the boy. Elevator to room 626. Walking the silent hallway. Open the door...
Laying down together we face one another and talk for an hour. It's now four in the morning. I held her in my arms as she drifted away into another dream world. Lay her head down and leave as a silent tear falls to her floor. Surreptitiously walk out the door and sit down holding my face wiping the tears. Listening to the cries of the girl in that stunning red dress. |
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