she arrives, waiting.
waiting on a bench soaked in facets of lamplight with her hair curled, falling into the light, beauty cascades from each shadow set in time.
she sits, hoping.
hoping with the perfect little black dress that tonight will be the night everything for once will fall into place.
she paces, sighing.
sighing with lips painted vividly red with hopes of romance and passion to whisk her away into the fairytales from which she was raised to believe in.
she stands, doubting.
doubting with her arms crossed, her head is lolling to the side, heavy with a million questions as to why she's still alone with a bitter winter breeze biting at her heart.
she leaves, crying.
crying with mascara and shattered dreams running down delicate porcelain cheeks.
catching a bus back to the warmth familiarity of being alone,
she catches his eye.
and the waiting begins again.
YOU ARE READING
spicks & specks
Poetrythe memories we leave behind. the spicks and the specks of life.
