A.K.A. Killer

A.K.A. Killer

Sipping cider seductively,

courtesy of a killer

in 4 inch heels,

the room moves around her,

more than,

moves.

She whispers secrets 

in a strangers ear,

turning smiles into grins;

most unsatisfactory.

And I watch

clutching at the end

of some

I don’t know what,

the bartender made me.

The bartender made me.

I thought I was over her,

I thought she didn’t matter anymore,

I thought I moved on.

And I feel a tear 

touch my hand.

Falling from the girl

quietly sitting next to me.

And I don’t give an inch.