She sauntered through the place of such an air,
she walked so elegantly and seemingly without a care,
she,
she of good grace and savoir faire,
yes, she sauntered through the place and like a hurricane she quickly left and headed up the stairs,
headed up the stairs with a handbag and in a red dress and with such an intense look upon her
face for her broken heart demanded that she was there,
and on her way,
and on her way to a room with a view,
she took a reflectful moment or two,
and then she sauntered up the stairs and when she got there,
she pushed the door open at the top and pulled out a gun and she shot a man,
and in the heat of the moment he was gone but it was the wrong man of which she was quickly
aware,
and he died rapidly in a pool of blood as tears began to run down her cheek,
and she shot herself dead in despair,
she shot herself dead in despair,
oh, teardrops and blood what is love,
what is love when love is bitter and one-sided,
and love is no longer there,
when love is no longer there.

Thanks to https://unsplash.com/@eugabrielsilverio from Unsplash for the use of the picture.

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