Morning impressions

Lipstick stains on the pillow and glasses,
She woke up in his arms,
Torn between living and existing,
Am I confusing the meanings of these words,
She wonders.
 
Hope is a disgusting emotion,
It stripped her bare to reveal,
The spider which spun webs around her heart,
The silence of loneliness,
The dread of existence.
 
The arms around her tightened,
They were not supposed to be there at all.
She belonged to another,
Who wanted her to love him,
Yet understood nothing about her.
 
The early sun fell through the blinds,
As she tried to forget all she had done,
Mistakes made but never dealt with,
A present wasted on the past.
Unknowingly she is already dead.

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