She lived with a broken heart
but on constant vacations;

with the comfort that
it could always be worse:

she got up whenever she felt like it;
drank tons of coffee;
had breakfast if she remembered to;
smoked swallowing her solitude;

roamed through the streets
without a set course
and drank indifference out of habit
more than for pleasure...


Routine is the best poison.


A piece of her soul
was stolen away from her;

the...