They're a set of painted lips, vibrant red, the colour of lust.
A pair of half lidded eyes looking through you, looking through dust.
The sultry gaze is beckoning you, to come touch, to come play.
To come use as you please, to use and then cast away.
A fake enamelled fingernail is running down your left cheek.
The smell of cheap perfume and minty breath and rotting walls fill your head.
She is wishing for something else instead, but she knows better than to wish for wishes.
Her hollow gaze lands upon the flame, a fickering orange illuminating the room.
The thunder roars outside, there's a raging storm and rain.
Her gaze fixated on the wax yielding into liquid and scarring the window pane.
She watches his shadow pounce on hers, while she forces her body to react.
As silent as her beating heart, salty water leaves her tear tract.
A bundle of fives ,crumpled and stained, remain scattered around her
Neither moving, niether breathing, neither causing a stir.
