Crimson.

Lack of recognition
In his bloodshot eyes.
A soft clink of ice.
Reality or vision?

His teeth hit the rim.
A red hot burn in his throat.
Is he drowning or afloat?
Liquid copper threatens to brim.

Fear filled eyes were hidden, -
Protected by her mother- but wet.
The scarlet filter made him forget
That hurting her was forbidden.

Angry drops of crimson dripped
And an angel left the nest
Dragging with her his life's zest.
And, of love he was stripped.

A helpless groan chases the sigh
That escapes the bleeding beast
The vultures of grief enjoyed a feast
Not waiting for him to die.

A shatter of glass. A million pieces.
He awakens with a start.
Was that his heart?
Or, is he really heartless?

-Arya

Alcohol not just brought down his inhibitions but awakened a monster he didn't know existed.
Losing all that he held dear, makes him wonder if the monster was him all along.

Arya

A poet - A bookworm, definitely, a bookworm - A photographer - A simple person who loves music, making craft-y things - haunted by nightmares starring stairs without railings, spiders, snakes.

India