My last night at the Moulin Rouge
Was spent coated in heartbreak,
Regret, and tears
Which would have overflown the Seine.

I can never return…
The dead have no need
For cabarets, alcohol,
And the world’s amount of exotic women.

But most of all,
The dead do not pine for
Lost chances
And a fate written in error.

The dead do not have to forgive
And make amends.
The lights will go out…the conflict…
Resolved.

My last night in the Moulin Rouge
Was spend covered in absinthe,
And the other poisons I needed
To remain alive…

If even temporarily.