The death of an actress washed up and put away. Like an old friend that you smile at in the post office. She lays seeping, her body, she closed her eyes. Her wrists are soaking the carpet with a life time of sadness. If she would have thought; it would matter. That it would matter to you. The stain on the ceiling means so much these last moments of the end. The black spots claw at her picture of the world. The world that was sweet once upon a time.

"Ride into the sunset"

she says in her mind. The faintest smile of a memory caresses her thought.

"The love is all lost in a pill. They're on my mind."

Their name spins on a lazy susan. As counting hours for a knock on the door.

"When it comes I'll answer."

she says into the dimming light.

"It'll come tonight."

Defiant the phrase of denial permeates in the silent.

"So come on, come on tell me the difference between here and there? This time. I would span the years of falling in love again. If the years would span."

Years so few in between. The color will turn this around. Around the magazines, the movies they're all dead.

"For first time in years a reason to stay. Should have a reason stay."

A reason to lose what would not delay. What couldn't delay. Chance a life of gambling on the after. Life that is losing virtue of flavor. Virtue of dissonance.

"Virtue will come tomorrow or a day after. As I sleep alone."