A tightening black dress to caress her every curve
A seat at the dinner table put on reserve
Pearls that choke the circumference of her neck
Her visage looking eerie and perplexed
The cuisine before her: A delicious French dish
Conversation at dinner was distinguished
But she was lost in a pollutant of words
Couldn’t speak; her tongue placed backwards
She stared intently at the knife near the goblet
She placed it at her throat, sliced it and bled
She bled and her blood oozed onto her filet mignon
The women at the table looked away & wore chignons
One guest requested to try the red sauce on her grub
It wasn’t red sauce; it wasn’t. It was fresh, red blood.
Another guest gaped at her red stained pearls
It wasn’t jewelry imported from Spain; it was blood.
The last drop of blood soaked her dinner
One guest commented on her figure, she’s getting thinner.
She was gone. Her head dropped into her French cuisine.
Guests resumed their talk; **the blood still unseen.