that pretty red dress

that pretty red dress
still hangs in my closet
maybe i should burn it
they'll still think i'm dishonest

the dress smells of sweat
of tears and of fear
each time it meets my eyes
it's as if he is near

i can still feel his breath
the way it burned my lips
it made my eyes water
smelled of booze and peppermints

and though time has passed
that dress still looks new
maybe the bloodstains would show
if it had been blue