She was leaning against a dirty wall, and blew out the smoke into
The blackened city. Her lipstick had faded away early in the
Evening when she kissed him to numb herself. She erred from one
Bar to the next, every step enhanced the emptiness around her. She
Was looking for someone to absorb her like she absorbed the dead ends
Of the city. She craved to put her face into a straightjacket to contain her heartache.
They all touched her and she smiled, nothing had ever been so hollow and
Unintended, sickening. Every single sensation evaporated over her skin.
There was no meaning, no intent, no value. She wouldn’t allow memories to be created.
He haunted her, she would inhale the cold air and feel him there, in her abandoned
Heart, travelling through to her sex, her desire, her need to hold him, to eat up his scent.
Every step she would take felt like a blow to her heart, to their story, to sealed off endings.
“Black-haired Girl” by József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1927)