Death

Immersiffied in her glory,
she screams,
the blood on the windshield
is not all she expected.
He lay lifeless,
cold,
unmoving,
as she makes futile attempts
to restore life.
His breath.
Her words.
Hatred. Envy. Anger.
The dance a wicked brushfire
in her lonesome mind.
A feeling:
What is it?
Joy? Happiness?
BLISS.