like nail polish
in specks,
leaving flecks of red.

Peeling off
like paint on the walls.
Flaking off
in shards of cornflower blue,
as she falls in her bedroom.

Burning out
like a smoked cigar.
She once was champagne
and caviar.

Dripping
like a leaky faucet.
She's drawn the line.
No man can cross it.