A Bed Soaked In Perfume

A Bed Soaked In Perfume

Pale skin; half-dressed bodies;
Side worn glances
Hooked on potential customers.
It’s almost midnight,
No Cinderella fantasy
No glass slippers and no prince charming.
Time seems to be rushing away
So many years,
Yet the same old song to sing.
No more tears to make her heart sting.

*

Wasted life;
Wasted love;
Every little thing that ever mattered…
It’s all been wasted.
A tart she definitely is.
Sweet and attractive enough to attract,
Available enough
For disagreeable-looking men
To keep coming back,
To her bed soaked in perfume.

*

You’ll find her where the city lights are.
A mistress of temptation of rapture.
You’ll oft hear vehement messages,
Tumbling from her toxic tongue,
If you dare to mess with her.
Chugging wine;
Taking pills;
Her life bordering on sanity’s fine line.
Starry skies stripped of romance; it’s business as usual.
Tentative steps; enticing smile and the floe begins to melt.

*

Svelte figure; Full breasts;
Pale skin; Half-dressed bodies;
A wink; a slight nudge and,
Strange lips; unfamiliar hands
Lonely; immoral; insecure men,
Faking pleasure, keeping her pain locked in,
Satisfaction in this sense is only temporary.

She has relationships with different men.
And they’ll all keep coming back’

To her bed soaked in perfume.

—–XxXxX—–

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