Red wine stained lipstick covers sad smiles
in the blissful drunkenness of grief. Unsteady
feet have never been as funny as when the
mind-numbing heat flowed through your
veins after losing the part of you that
remembers what it feels like to be happy.

Behind the Wheel-Short Story

Wrote a short story, nothing else really to it.

Excerpt; “I nod solemnly, looking around at the mixture of emotions painted on the faces around me. Grief claims art in many forms, represented by everyone surrounding me, and I am the artist that never should have been behind the wheel that night.”