She strummed pausing chords on the guitar,
A cigarette dangling on her lips loosely,
The room lay dimly lit in silence,
Smoke bellowing above the old couch.
She poured herself another drink,
Counts of lost lovers gone in each sip,
Her fingers lightly touching the wounds again,
She looks to the glass ceiling on to the stars.
Brightly lit candles give her company,
She sits after a sold out night,
Looking dazzling in her indifference,
In an empty room of scotch and cigarettes.
Laughter of innumerable voices,
Now lost to the grieving room,
Soul sold off to the highest bidder,
An artist’s voice now on hire.
First went the music…
Then it was the lovers…
And then the dazzle…
And then there was None!
